


the longest shortest year

by zukoscomet



Series: roots and wings [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Babysitting, Cross-cultural, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Fire Lady Katara, Fire Nation Royal Family, Fluff and Humor, Gaang (Avatar) as Family, Kid Fic, Marriage, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Romance, Sickfic, Steambabies - Freeform, i've structured all the chapters but i haven't written them all yet so tags may be updated, tbh this is just pure fluff indulgence and i'm not ashamed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26595346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zukoscomet/pseuds/zukoscomet
Summary: "The first year of parenthood is the longest shortest year ever."Or: the first twelve months of Prince Kaito's life and already he is growing up too fast for either of them to handle.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: roots and wings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934692
Comments: 92
Kudos: 345





	1. before

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! 
> 
> This is the promised follow-up to my first fic act of infinite optimism. I originally planned to keep writing until I finished the whole thing, but it would be HEFTY so instead I'm releasing it month by month and writing as I go along. All the chapters are premised and mildly structured, some of them have even already been written in full. From my first draftings, some of the chapters are considerably longer than others, I hope that's okay! There will be probably be some gaps between chapter uploads, what with work, gym, reading, etc and I'll be restarting university in a few weeks but I will try my very best to keep a passably regular upload time. 
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy, and feedback is very, very welcome <3

##  **before:**

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip. Drip._

The jagged flagstones that comprised the floor dug into Ozai’s bare feet as he paced up and down in his cage. The searing pain on his soles forecast the formation of sores, but movement was really the only thing Ozai had left. He feared if he stopped doing that, then his neglected and failing body would probably just collapse. Once upon a time, that event would have called for national mourning, his ashes interred with distinction amongst his forefathers, the palace courtyard packed with mourners in white, a grand ceremony by the Fire Sages to mark his passing into the Spirit World, monuments put up all over the kingdom to memorialise him, scholars working feverishly to seal his legacy in ink. Now, those honours would belong to Zuko and Ozai departing with even just a cremation - the most basic but most sacred of posthumous rites in the Fire Nation - was far from a sure thing.

Not when it rested upon Zuko to grant that wish.

In the heavy silence of the prison that weighed down like a suffocating cloth, the sound of the raindrops leaking through the ceiling and hitting the floor was deafening. Ozai clamped his hands over his ears, heels pressed to his temples, but still the water thudded to the ground like boulders and his head felt like it was about to split down the centre.

“Would you idiots fix that _infernal_ leaking?” He attempted to yell to the guards outside, but his voice was barely more than a scratchy croak.

He was expecting them to laugh, for their infuriating faces to appear in the hatch to sneer and jeer at the man that was once their exalted Fire Lord - a man that could have once ended their lives with as little as a nod - like he was nothing but a nobody. But, other than the perpetual crackling of the torches burning, there was no sound outside the door at all. Not even a snigger.

He looked up at the light shining on the wall, accounted for its positioning. They weren’t there. At this time, they were probably fetching his supper.

Sure enough, he could hear some footsteps and the faint jingle of keys approaching from down the hall.

Ozai looked up, expecting to see the hatch open and a hand sticking through with his usual miserable portion of bread and broth. The stabbing in his stomach was particularly sharp this evening, sharp enough that he was considering eating just a few bites to ease the pain, but when he turned to pick up the tray grudgingly, the door hung wide open. Ozai didn't even get a second to consider running before a silhouette stepped into the threshold. 

_Zuko._

It was not, however, the Zuko he remembered.

The last time that his son had been here, nearly ten years past now, he had been seventeen years old. Teetering on the cusp of adulthood - accelerated greatly by the trials of taking the reins of a country where half of them wanted him dead and the rest were at best undecided - but still very much a boy. An unstable, uncertain, lonely, angry boy, who had never come before his father in anything less than his full Fire Lord attire, wearing it like an armour in a wasted attempt to hide the vulnerabilities glaring underneath.

Zuko clearly no longer needed the robes to feel safe. The tunic he wore now was a plain black, with only some modest embroidery along the flare of the sleeves. His headpiece and shoulder-pads were nowhere to be seen and he was free of any other finery except for the charm at his neck, the Water Tribe engravings at odds with the gold disc it was carved into and the red ribbon collar it hung from.

But then, the Zuko that stood before him now was not a boy. He was a man. Twenty-six years old, Ozai counted in his head.

Zuko had finally matured into his frame, leaving behind his childish lankiness in favour of a lean elegance that exuded his aristocratic disposition. His shoulders had broadened considerably, his limbs were sturdy with muscle and a late onset growth spurt had him standing taller now than even Ozai had in his prime. His shadow, cast in the light of the torches flickering in the hall, was imposing as it reached across the length of the cell floor and extended up the wall. His hair had grown out long and thick, some bound up in two neat plaits behind his ears, reminiscent of the style of his Water Tribe wife, but mostly allowed to fall down his back and over his shoulders like a bolt of silk. 

His golden eyes - an almost exact replication of Ozai’s own irises - that had once burned with such a barely contained rage that an explosion seemed constantly imminent, were completely empty of anything other than a detached disdain as he stared down at his father.

The only thing that had not changed about his son was his scar. Time had not faded the mark whatsoever, the skin still puckered and bold. That gave Ozai a small rush of satisfaction but it was far from enough to damper the almost primal panic in his gut, nor the overwhelming urge he felt to shrink away from Zuko.

No, Zuko was not dressed as the Fire Lord, but there was no mistaking that he was.

He was... _afraid_ of Zuko, he realised. Afraid of the spiritless baby he’d once held, of the quiet little boy that he’d pulled from the water, of the teenager that had grovelled at his feet for mercy. Afraid of the child he should have got rid of years ago when he had the chance. Ozai might have laughed at the irony of it all if he didn’t feel deep down that his fear was justified.

Zuko’s face gave nothing away, but Ozai could sense the weight of the encounter in the air. He wouldn’t have come with no purpose, not after nearly a decade without so much as a whisper of contact.

“Come for more advice?” Ozai managed after a long moment, forcing a taunting grin.

Zuko stayed quiet, watching him passively, only a few steps away from the door. After the silence had stretched on to an untenable degree, he finally said: “My son was born yesterday.”

Ozai’s observation had been correct, then. 

The guards hardly spoke at all within his earshot and when they did, it was never anything of substance. Zuko would have ordered silence for the obvious security concerns, but there was probably also an element of personal satisfaction; knowing that being so completely isolated from the world outside his four walls would drive the disgraced former Fire Lord half-mad. But from what little words were uttered in his presence, Ozai had picked up on a change in the drivel over the last few months. It was not the _Fire Lord and Lady_ anymore; instead, they had reverted back to saying the _Royal Family_. It was a small difference and could well be meaningless but to Ozai - with his permanent state of idleness leaving his mind thirsty for even the slightest detail to chew over - the evolution was telling. 

With him imprisoned, Ursa choosing to keep her distance, Azula... wherever Azula was, Iroh already a regular presence at the palace, and with a sure amount of pressure for an heir to be produced, who else could Zuko have possibly added to the royal household other than his own child?

“Congratulations, Fire Lord.” Ozai said snidely but Zuko was unruffled. Evidently he wasn’t there simply to inform him that he was now a grandfather.

“When Katara told me that she was expecting, I was scared but I thought it was just the usual father-to-be nerves. That’s what Uncle Iroh said when I told him how I felt, but as the pregnancy went on, I knew it had to be more than that. The more that he grew, the more presence and character he developed even though he was still in the womb, the less _abstract_ the whole idea of having a child was, the worse it got. I couldn’t sleep because I was having nightmares again, could barely concentrate on my duties because I was exhausted and too busy panicking about my family. Everyone tried to reassure me that it would be alright but nothing made it better. I knew that I cared for him, for the baby. That brought me some comfort, but still all I could think was that I was going to ruin him. How could I possibly be a good father myself when I had _you_?”

Ozai saw a rush of venom rise up in Zuko. His fists curled into tight balls at his side, sparks flickering inside his palms, and he closed his eyes as he put his head down. Ozai felt like a cornered animal, wanting to hide from his son’s impending wrath but having nowhere to run to.

Luckily for him, Zuko took in a deep, steadying breath and when he looked up once more, there was a wonderment in his eyes not meant for Ozai.

“But when Katara gave birth,” he says softly. “When they put my son into my arms and I looked into his eyes, I... I _loved_ him. More than anything in the whole world. It was so strong that I thought I was going to die from the feeling.”

Ozai smirked. “I see, and you’ve come to ask if I felt the same because you’re wondering if you can feel this way and still be a threat to him?”

Zuko shook his head defiantly. “I know that I’m not. I could never harm him on purpose. When they first gave him to me, I was afraid to _touch_ him, just in case I hurt him by accident. So here is my question.”

A chill shot down Ozai’s spine as his son stormed forward suddenly. He scrabbled backwards in an attempt to get clear but his senses, dulled from years without stimulation, had alerted him just a second too late. It was a futile act anyway; he only found the cold, unforgiving stone scraping against his fingertips. It had taken several months of obsessively surveying the brickwork to conclude it, but there was no exploitable flaw in the wall. It was a perfect prison. There was no escaping his cage and no escaping from the young Fire Lord as he caught hold of him by the front of his shirt and pushed him back roughly, his teeth bared in a silent growl.

“How could you possibly have burned your own child’s face?”

Ozai fought desperately to keep his feet grounded to the floor as Zuko held him up against the wall, their faces close.

“I told you before. You disrespected me.” He choked at the strength of Zuko’s clutches. “You disrespected your position as the Crown Prince and the future Fire Lord. You needed to be punished for that - for the good of the Fire Nation - but I also hoped it would teach you that your actions, your _weaknesses_ , would have consequences. Since you clearly failed to learn that lesson when you nearly drowned on Ember Island, I thought that leaving you with a physical reminder might keep you from forgetting. And it worked, didn’t it?” He let out a strangled, triumphant scoff. “Not only are you still alive, against all the odds, you’re _thriving_ -”

His grip tightened further, his knuckles digging into Ozai’s collarbone painfully.

“Not because of you. I am thriving in _spite_ of you. I am thriving because I turned away from the hate and the violence and the suffering, and found my own path.”

“If that were true you would not be here doing this.” the older man hissed.

The Fire Lord only laughed harshly at that.

“I’m not here to hurt you. Agni knows I want to but believe me: if I thought that was the right thing to do I’d have done it a long, long time ago. Death is too good for you. I never wanted to see your face again - and after today I never will - but I want an answer and I’m not leaving until I get it.” He released his hold but did not retreat an inch. “I didn’t ask why you did it - you made that clear enough from the start - I want to know _how_.”

“You already _know_ how.” Ozai spat as he pushed past and sat on the bed.

Zuko was a thinker. A serial over-thinker in most people’s opinions, including Katara’s. He was constantly ticking over; potential future problems stacking themselves on the docket with ones he already had, hypothetical scenarios matching with their hypothetical solutions, the topics ranging wildly from _‘What I should have for breakfast tomorrow?’_ all the way up to _‘How am I going to resolve this precarious political crisis without starting a war and/or getting myself killed?_ ’.

For sure, Zuko’s mind was both his best and worst attribute.

On one hand, he was almost always prepared for the things that could be prepared for. That was extremely useful as Fire Lord, ensuring that he approached any situation with his best foot forward. On the other, his brain didn’t seem to understand that some problems simply cannot be solved with any amount of forward-planning. No matter how tormented he became, he could rarely force himself to stop thinking, luring himself into a constant and inescapable state of stress over things that were beyond his control. Zuko tried to keep it in check by concentrating on his Fire Lord issues, not his personal ones. Sometimes it worked, but overspill was inevitable and the upheavals and pressures of his son’s arrival had broken down the barriers somewhat.

The notion of this visit had been playing on his mind for a while. At first, it had been nothing more than an ill-advised idea lurking in his subconscious but, against his better judgement, the impulse had only grown as he’d hurtled towards fatherhood. The tipping point had been reached somewhere in the last twenty-four hours.

Zuko had played out this encounter in his head a thousand times in a thousand different ways. In many of them, he had reached the same outcome. Sokka had even said it out loud so by now, he had to be prepared for it. Somewhere deep down, he’d probably even come here expecting it, but there was still a flicker of sadness at the realisation that his cynicism was about to pay off; that the worst possible conclusion that he’d conjured up was going to be the correct one.

Ozai grinned maliciously. If this was the last moment he was ever going to spend with his son, he was going to take full pleasure in meting out that final blow.

“Say it.”

Zuko swallowed hard, before he finally managed to summon his courage.

“I love my son. You don’t.” he said plainly.

Ozai shrugged nonchalantly but he didn’t need to say anything more. They both knew that that was the truth.

For the first time in a long time, Zuko felt a familiar piercing pain in his heart, like he’d been stabbed with a sharp needle. He remembered that feeling. It had been with him every day in his years of exile, as constant a companion as his shadow, haunting his footsteps and whispering in his ear; wanting his father’s love and approval so desperately but never getting it because it simply didn’t exist, like a dog chasing its own tail. Of course, he had to have suspected that all along. How could a loving father have treated him as he had? With the way Katara and their friends loved him, with Ursa and Iroh - even Hakoda and Ikem - to hold up in parental comparison, it seemed so blatantly obvious.

But clearly, saying it himself had stung Zuko more than he’d anticipated. He could feel a lump lodging in his throat, an ominous prickle in his eyes, but he forced it down. There was no way he was going to permit himself to get upset in front of Ozai.

“Did you _ever_ love me?” Zuko demanded. “Even for a moment?”

Zuko hadn’t really expected an answer but Ozai actually seemed to consider the question seriously, blinking at the opposite wall as if there were some unexpected realisation carved into the stone.

“When your mother went into labour, it took nearly three days for you to be born. You were causing her so much pain that I could hear her screaming no matter where I went in the palace. It was like you were fighting her, as if you were afraid of coming into the world. I suspected then that if you survived the birth, you would be a weak child. And I was right. When you were born, you didn’t cry out, there was no fire in your eyes, you were just... _empty_. All I felt towards you was disappointment and resentment. After you first showed that you could firebend, I thought perhaps I was wrong, that maybe there _was_ potential in you after all. I hesitated, but that’s why I saved you from the water on Ember Island. I hoped that that experience would make you strong.”

He gripped the metal bedframe as though he were going through the fury of the moment yet again. “But you were just as soft and spineless after as you were before. That’s when I truly began to hate you.”

“You’re the one that was empty. Thinking that love for your child should somehow be conditional to worth.” The disgust in Zuko’s tone was palpable, but Ozai nodded resolutely.

“It is and in time, you will find that out for yourself. You’ve diluted the blood, Zuko, made the heirs to the throne half-bred; you can expect there to be consequences. You might love your little brat now but what happens if he and your other offspring yet to come turn out to be all nonbenders? Or worse, _waterbenders_? What happens when your life is made a misery because your children are not what you need them to be?”

Zuko had moved beyond taking abuse personally from anyone, let alone his father, when he’d become Fire Lord. It was part-and-parcel of putting himself up on the pedestal but choosing to act with restraint. He himself could field a hundred insults; retaliating if the situation allowed him to or merely shrugging them off like water from a turtle-duck’s shell. However, he could not manage temperance when the bile was levelled at Katara, even less so when it came to their son. He’d heard the half-breed insult once before - over a month after they’d first informed the public but when Katara had only just reached the stage where she couldn’t hide her bump anymore. A disaffected old noble had spat it at her after she’d given him a humiliating - but much deserved - dressing-down over his attempts to foil Katara’s reforms to the Fire Nation’s school curriculum.

Just like on that occasion, he could feel the same hot rage bubbling up from his gut, coursing through his body like a wildfire.

Atleast with the noble, Zuko had had the gratification of being able to dishonourably cast him out. With Ozai, there was nothing he could do without resorting to violence; Ozai could not be brought any lower than he already was.

The doctors said he was dying, that at this rate he’d be lucky to see out another year.

Even now that he’d seen him - even after he’d seen his sallow skin stretched over jutting bones, seen how his whole body shook without prompting and how he wheezed with every breath - Zuko still didn’t quite believe the doctors’ prediction would be correct. The prospect of his father’s death seemed both too good to be true and disappointing - that the spectre of him would finally be gone from the world and Zuko’s life, but that death was an easy exit that Ozai did not deserve any sooner than normal.

“I bring my children into this world. If there are consequences for that,” Zuko struggled to keep his anger from tingeing his tone. “-which there shouldn’t be if I have made the Fire Nation even the slightest bit better during my time as Fire Lord, they are my responsibility to deal with, not theirs.”

Ozai just smiled at him superciliously.

It was time to go. Before he did something to him that he would come to regret - easy exit be damned.

“You don’t know what it is to love someone, or what it is to be loved, and you never will.” Zuko said coldly. “You will die here, alone in this hole, having never had a moment of contentment or true happiness in your whole life and that is a _far_ better punishment than I could have ever managed for you. I would probably pity you if you were anyone else.”

The smile slipped off of his face like wet snow from a roof.

For once, Ozai didn’t have a word to say.

Zuko turned his back for the last time. “Goodbye, Father.”

He made towards the exit. The pair of guards who had stood waiting jumped to open the cell door for him but before he could cross through it, Ozai’s voice stopped him.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what my grandson is called then?”

Zuko desperately wanted to refuse this pointless question - it wasn’t like he was ever going to see, let alone _speak_ , to his grandson. He wanted to stalk out of the cell, never to return, and leave Ozai to stew in his ignorance from now until he drew his last breath - however near or far in the future that would be. But the gesture would be both petty and short-lived. The guards that watched over Ozai were the best of the best, but it was inevitable that even they would forget and use the prince’s name at some point.

He didn’t bother to face him again. “His name is Kai, short for Kaito. In honour of Katara’s mother.”

A Fire Nation prince, possibly the future Fire Lord, with a Water Tribe name.

He could almost feel Ozai’s blood boiling at that announcement. After the lengths that he’d gone to to secure the ‘purity’ of the royal line, suffering an arranged marriage to his mother, Zuko had truly undone it all in one fell swoop.

“Get out.”

But it was too late.

Zuko was already long gone, sailing down the hallway with a smile on his face and a level of power he had never felt.


	2. month 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest one in the bunch. I tried to extend it a little but in the end I liked it just the way it was. Third instalment shouldn't be too far behind this one, just doing some last minute editing. Happy reading!

##  **month 1:**

Zuko had spent _years_ considering the aspects of fatherhood.

Of course, he had ample means with which to raise a child. He had ample means to raise a thousand, and then some. But the deeper questions hadn’t had such a neat answer. After everything that had happened, was it right of him to continue his line? How would he explain the past constructively? How would the Fire Nation react to having waterbenders in the Royal Family by blood? How was he supposed to raise his kid to be grounded and royalty simultaneously? How was he supposed to raise his kid to be just and kind and _right_?

Would he be a good father?

All of these questions, weighing down on him constantly, so, really, it was extra ironic that in all that time, Zuko had somehow overlooked the fact that he knew absolutely _nothing_ about babies.

Katara was slightly better equipped for this but she was struggling, too. She had natural maternal instincts by the bucket-load, but even that didn’t seem to compensate for the lack of practical experience with a baby this young. The struggle was represented in their bodies. Zuko looked a shambles, like he’d spent the last week roaming around in uncharted wilderness, but somehow Katara had edged him out to look just that little bit worse. Dark shadows stretched out underneath her blood-shot eyes. Her hair, slung loose over her shoulder, was so matted and oily that her curls had practically been flattened out. As she crossed back and forth in front of him at the foot of the bed - which might have been a plausible attempt at soothing the baby in her arms if her pacing wasn’t so frenetic - he could catch the vague scent of soured breast-milk and stale sweat. Neither of them had slept unbroken for more than an hour or two in weeks.

It had started almost immediately after the birth, once the revolving door of visitors and well-wishers had finally slowed to a halt. At first, they’d had to insist to themselves that they were just missing something obvious - like maybe he was getting too hot or too cold, maybe he didn’t like the feel of his blankets, maybe there was something wrong with Katara’s milk flow - but they’d eliminated every possible source of aggravation and Kai was still the same, spending the majority of nights screaming himself into oblivion.

_Colic_ , Doctor Maho had said to them with a dooming sympathy, _it’ll improve in its own time. No more than six months._

Six months of this was a tall order, not only because of the sheer exhaustion, but because neither of them could bear to see their son in distress for hour after hour with no relief.

Sometimes, if they caught him early enough in his stirrings, they could bring him into their bed and hush the fit before it escalated. More often, though, he was so volatile that he had already gone too far by the time either of them got to him. Then all that was left was to wait for him to wear himself out.

This was one of the latter nights, and it had only just begun.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Mommy’s here. Shh, shh, shh.”

“Katara, give him to me.” he told her when he saw the frustrated tears gathering in her eyes as Kai howled into her shoulder.

“No.” She shook her head, her voice thick. “It’ll just make things worse.”

She was probably right. Though Kai did clearly know who Zuko was, and was happier with him than another, he was very much a mommy’s boy at heart. It was almost always her that he wanted to console him. Even when he was completely inconsolable like this.

Still, he held out his arms insistently because Katara looked about ready to collapse and she seemed to know it as she passed their son over to him.

He’d only been awake for less than half an hour, but already Kai was in a terrible state. His hair and his sleep-suit were both soaked with sweat. His screwed-up face was bright red and scorching hot to the touch. He was so worked up that he hadn’t stopped crying for even a second to consider the change of hands, but when he did realise that his mother had given him up, it only got worse, his screams becoming so loud that Zuko feared he was doing actual damage to his throat.

“Come on, Kai, this really can’t be good for you. You need to sleep.” he pleaded, but Kai was well beyond the point of allowing some stupid words to mollify him so Zuko settled for a more tactical approach.

Zuko stripped him out of his damp nightclothes and replaced them with fresh, dry ones before he passed him back to Katara and they began the motions of a standard colic-plagued night. Katara tried to get him to suckle purely to pacify him but he refused that loudly. Then they both tried the usual rigmarole - swaddling, rocking, cuddling, singing, offering him a selection of his comfort toys, putting him in the weird curled-up position that Doctor Maho had suggested, but, as always, they all did about as much good as Zuko’s begging did.

After another hour had dragged by in which the only success had been Katara managing to coerce their son into taking a meagre feed from her, following which he’d regurgitated half of it down Zuko’s shoulder and promptly started crying again, Zuko flopped back onto their bed sideways in defeat. Katara joined him, laying flat on her stomach by his side. 

“What are we going to do with you, huh?” he murmured as he patted his son’s back gently.

Kai just sobbed, fists curled into his dad’s night-robe.

Zuko laid there and wracked his brains for something - _anything_ \- that would help him settle Kai down but, as usual, he drew a blank. In his whole life, his only encounters with a baby this small had to have been with Azula, but he hadn’t been much more than a baby himself when she was born. Besides, even if he had been a little older, there wouldn’t be anything useful in those memories. Ursa had bowed to tradition and allowed Azula to be cared for by nurses for the first year of her life, just like she had with him. Baby Azula was only ever around when she was already clean, fed and contented - and she was quickly whisked away if she wasn’t - so there was no opportunity for his mother to show him any helpful parenting tricks and his father... well, the only thing he’d ever seen his father do well was warmonger and firebend.

He was in the middle of vocalising that train of thought to his semi-conscious wife when a fresh possibility entered his head and his words trailed off.

Katara lifted her head from where it had slowly submerged into the mattress, confused at his unfinished sentence, but before she could question it, he turned to face her and said:

“I’ve got an idea.” 

“I know you’re tired but if your idea is to get Kai to deal with his colic fits by warmongering then it seriously needs work.”

He encouraged her to sit up. “Get under the covers and put your light out.”

“Zuko-” she protested as he bundled the grizzling baby into her arms and sprung off the bed.

“Just trust me.”

For the first time in a while, Zuko actually looked somewhat hopeful about his mysterious plan as he stood over them so she did as he asked - albeit with a heavy, doubtful sigh. Clutching Kai to her chest, she slipped beneath the blanket and snuffed out the candle at her bedside. Their surroundings disappeared into the dark and the mattress shifted as Zuko climbed back on and sat cross-legged beside them.

For a moment, there was nothing in the room except the blackness, the baby’s persistent bawling and the chatter of dragon hoppers outside the window, then a faint glow drove back the void.

Fire blossomed and Katara felt a wave of warmth wash over her face as Zuko held the blaze a little closer to them for the baby to see properly. By now, Katara thought herself well familiar with the extents of Zuko's power - what he could and couldn't do - and yet this didn’t look like a conjuring of his that she'd ever seen before; in addition to the usual reds and oranges, purples, blues, greens and yellows flickered on his open palm, shimmering and swaying like a living thing as it merged into a vivid, luminous rainbow.

A wail caught in Kai’s throat.

Zuko watched the reflection of the fire flickering in his son’s widened eyes, lighting up his golden irises.

Slowly but surely, as he stared at the flames, Kai’s breathing began to even itself out. He settled his head over the top of Katara’s sternum and his screams weakened, octave by octave, descending into a wail, then a whimper, then blessed silence fell. Kai was completely enthralled by the fire, his gaze following the display doggedly as Zuko invented new and interesting ways to manipulate the flames. At first, he’d thought that silence was all they were going to get - and Zuko’s head was hurting so much he’d probably have been plenty thrilled with that - but eventually, his eyelids began to flutter indicatively as he snuffled into his mother’s chest. He was fighting it but once Katara caught on with the sound of his tiny yawn and she started stroking his hair, murmuring soft nonsense into his ear, he was a goner. 

Finally,Kai closed his eyes and Zuko felt about as liberated then as he did when he'd walked out of the throne room under the black sun.

Just like that day, everything felt so precarious that they weren’t even brave enough to indulge in a sigh of a relief - let alone words or any significant movement- so Zuko laid himself down where he was, on top of the covers beside his wife and son. 

Katara used her last dregs of energy to put her hand in his and squeeze.

He knew nothing, but they would manage.


	3. month 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy the update and since I'm stuck in a firebreak lockdown here in Wales for another week, with any luck the next few chapters won't be so far behind. Stay safe <3

##  **month 2:**

“Chief Hakoda?”

Hakoda looked up from the map spread out on his desk. A familiar face had popped around his office door, cheeks rosy from the particularly sharp winter winds that were blowing in through the city from the sea. After a moment, he recognised the young woman - she was one of the new healers that had come down from the North as part of the reconstruction project years ago. She, among many others, had never left.

“Your daughter’s ship has just come in to land at the docks.” she smiled.

“Okay, thank you, Vala. I’ll be along in a moment. Tell Sokka and my mother on your way back, too, will you?”

Bato nudged his oldest friend with his elbow as the healer disappeared with a curt nod. “Are you excited, Gramps?”

He _was_ excited, but it was lost somewhere beneath all the nerves.

Hakoda couldn’t say that he’d ever given much consideration to how or when he would become a grandfather. For the majority of his life, Hakoda had never dared to imagine more than a day or two ahead at a time, let alone what his twilight years might hold for him. Those thoughts - and the time required to dwell on them - had been lost in the cyclone of war, a war that he’d fought so Sokka and Katara might have even the _chance_ to grow up and start families of their own.

He wouldn’t have ever expected, however, that he would have to experience the arrival of his first grandchild solely by words inked onto scraps of parchment.

It hadn’t mattered much when the first hawk had come in the spring, bearing news of Katara’s pregnancy and a promise of a visit later in the year. The distance between them had seemed trivial in the face of such wonderful and long-awaited news. But then the joy had quickly turned to ashes in his mouth when the next hawk had landed on his table a few months after. He’d known something was wrong the moment he’d unrolled the scroll to find Zuko’s handwriting - usually flawlessly neat like one would expect of a monarch, but sloppy and rushed on that occasion - and the Fire Nation’s royal seal absent. The latter anomaly immediately tipped him off that the content was personal, not business. And it was. The short few lines were _very_ personal and suddenly, when every fibre of him was screaming at him to go and comfort his daughter, the ocean between them - and the responsibility of Head Chieftain that prevented him from crossing it - was the bane of his existence.

The letter announcing that Katara had given birth and she and her baby boy were just fine had only provided half a relief. 

Now he had a daughter _and_ a grandson, safe and well but out of his reach.

Hakoda felt guilty for thinking it - the young family had gone to the utmost to make this visit happen as soon as they could - but it still wasn’t quite the same as being able to see them whenever he wanted.

He did his best to push all of that aside. It wasn’t their fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, and they were here now.

“Sure.” he answered his friend. “If you promise to never to call me that again.”

Bato just chuckled. “Whatever you say, _Grandpa_.”

Hakoda didn’t take the bait like usual. He was fixated on the map of their tribe’s territories, staring but not really seeing, a deep frown creasing his brow. Bato recognised that look. He was more than used to it. He and Hakoda had been at each other’s side for decades and in a war, that was really the only expression that was called for most of the time. But they weren’t at war anymore and the reconstruction was going well, yet still he’d seen that look a lot more these past few months - _too_ much. 

He pulled the map off of the table and rolled it up. “Go on. Get out of here. I’ll finish drawing up the hunting borders.” 

He held up a hand when the chief protested. “Katara and Zuko have put themselves through nearly a week at sea with a newborn baby to come and visit. You don’t want to be late.”

“But-”

“Go and meet your grandson, Hakoda.” 

His deputy’s voice was unequivocally stern and the look on his face suggested he’d have no qualms whatsoever about dragging him down there by his collar if need be. That was a scenario probably best avoided.

Hakoda caved and clasped a grateful hand to his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Bato returned the gesture. 

“Remember to smile. He’s a prince; we need him to like us if future relations with the Fire Nation are going to work out.” he called as he turned his back.

The chief shook his head disbelievingly as he made his way out of his office and down the corridor. Katara and Zuko’s fifth wedding anniversary - the day that he’d said a blessing over their joined hands and they’d lit their traditional _qulliq_ on the ice, not the official date of the larger ceremony they’d had in the Fire Nation - was fast approaching but still he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that his daughter was a queen; that his grandchildren and his descendants after them would be princes and princesses, that some would even be the Fire Lords of the future.

Hakoda’s musings were interrupted by the morning sun, its rays blinding him as he descended the steps from the government building and walked out onto the square. Eventually, his eyes adjusted to the light and, sure enough, a foreign but familiar corvette was floating in the dock, a flag emblazoned with the teardrop flame flapping in the wind. It was the smallest model of powered ships on offer, and the majority of its usual equipment had been stripped from the deck, but still it towered over the merchant and pleasure vessels that were bobbing around it.

He wondered if there would ever be a time when he could see a Fire Nation ship in his harbour without immediately having his gut twist.

The Council Hall was high up on the slopes of the mountain but as he held up a hand to block out the sun beams and squinted his eyes, he could just about make out some signs of movement around the ship.

Bato was right. He didn’t want to be late.

Hakoda was still adjusting to just how much the tiny community he’d grown up in had expanded over the past almost-a-decade. Where once he could cross from wall to wall in two or three minutes, the city that stood in the village’s place was twenty, maybe even thirty,times as vast and took a great deal more time to traverse. By the time Hakoda had made his way to the docks, the hints of activity he’d spied from above had developed into fully-blown hubbub.

The deckhands were still finishing their knots to hold the corvette to its mooring posts, but already the gangplank was down and a throng had sprung up around the new arrival. Visitors were becoming more commonplace, but they were still unusual enough that they generated immediate interest. Of course, it helped that these particular pair of guests were world leaders and war heroes. The majority of the vessel’s occupants hadn’t strayed far just yet - too busy unloading the imports from the Fire Nation to the eagerly waiting buyers - but further along the wharf, the higher officers were hovering somewhat nervously on the fringes of a much larger crowd.

A lofty figure, dressed in a red parka lined with cream furs, stood a head above the circle and Hakoda instantly recognised his son-in-law’s unique burn scar.

“So will he be the Fire Lord after you, Lord Zuko?” Hakoda heard a woman ask as she fussed over what had to be his grandson, even though he could see nothing lower than Zuko’s shoulders.

“If he’s a firebender, then yes, he will be.” Zuko explained with a hesitant but proud smile, seemingly shifting the baby’s weight slightly. “But if he can bend then it won’t come in until he’s about three or four, maybe even later than that, so we’ll have to wait and see.”

Hakoda didn’t get to hear an answer before he was distracted by another voice.

“Do it again, Master Katara!”

He spotted the twinkle of the Fire Lady’s crown in the sun and there stood his daughter. She had her back turned to the city as she balanced right at the very edge of the dock. A gaggle of children had gathered around her, all facing out to the ocean, too. Katara planted her feet apart and took a stance, her left hand out in front of her, palm open and upright to the water, while her right hand hovered near the opposite hip. Then, in one fluid motion across her body and up above her head, she drew her hand up, wrist swivelling her fingers in fast but controlled circles.

Out to sea, the water responded to her command. A column slowly rose from the surface until it formed a tower looming over them, water whirling in a vortex, before she let it drop with a crash, her braid blowing back in the rush of air.

The children burst into laughter and shrieks of joy, while the adults gave a polite round of applause.

When Katara glanced over her shoulder, Zuko mouthed something to her that looked to Hakoda like _‘show-off’_ but he was looking at her in the same way that Kya once had when she was watching him give a speech to his men or play with their children - complete love and admiration. Suddenly, his daughter’s absence seemed a little easier to bear when he knew she was with someone that was capable of looking at her like that.

A girl, perhaps six or seven at best, tugged on Katara’s sleeve as the rest of the kids drifted back to their parents. “When I get older, I want to be a master waterbender like you, Fire Lady Katara.”

“Just Katara will do.” she smiled, chucking the girl’s chin as she bent down to her height. “That’s awesome to hear. The Southern Water Tribe is going to need lots of strong and talented benders. Anyone can be a master but you have to work hard for it, okay? Never give up no matter what anyone tells you.”

The little girl nodded resolutely. She bounced back over to take the outstretched hand of what was presumably her father as the parents began to hustle their children back home to get them ready for the school day.

Finally, as Katara watched the girl go, she saw him.

“Dad!” 

The remnants of the crowd separated as Katara charged down the boardwalk, Zuko’s half-hearted call for her to take it easy falling on deaf ears. She collided with Hakoda at full pelt, practically leaping up at him as she threw her arms around him.

“It’s so good to see you.” She squeezed him tight as she buried her face into his parka. 

Katara peeked up at him and he had never seen her so... _alive_ before. She was almost vibrating with energy.

He could scarcely believe that finally she was here with him as he wrapped his arms around her. “You have no idea.”

Hakoda could have happily stayed that way for the rest of the day - probably longer - but Katara didn’t linger in the embrace. Her mind was focused on something else. She pulled away from him and turned to beckon Zuko, her hand raised eagerly to wave him over, but Zuko was already graciously extricating himself from the myriad of women - and a fair few of the tribe’s men, too - that had come to fawn over the new baby. Their coos and congratulations followed him as he made his way down the dock towards his family.

“Hakoda.” Zuko greeted as he approached, trying hard to resist the urge to shiver as the wind whipped through his coat. Katara had reassured him that Kai would be fine - _“He has Water Tribe blood, Zuko, stop fussing.”_ \- and he looked content enough right now, but still he pulled the blankets around his son a little tighter and heated himself - and Kai by extension - up with his bending.

“Zuko.” He nodded his head as the Fire Lord approached. “How was the trip?”

“Not too bad, actually. Turns out Kai really liked the feeling of the boat swaying so he spent most of the journey asleep, didn’t you, kid?” Zuko addressed the bundle cradled against his chest and grinned when he got a quiet babbling in response. “Of course, he woke up the second that everyone started paying attention to him, though. He’s a real charmer. Just like his Mom.”

Katara tsked at her husband and as she leaned in to take their son from him, she muttered something under her breath that made Zuko blush like a teenager. She angled her body to present him to her father.

“Do you want to hold him?” she asked hopefully.

Hakoda tried to say something lightening but the words got stuck in his mouth so he just nodded silently and Katara passed her baby into her father’s arms.

He already knew the colour of his grandson’s eyes. It had been the first detail in the long list that Katara had put together for him, but still he was stunned by the pair of luminous golden eyes peering out at him.

It had been a long time since he’d held a baby this small and Kai was _small_ \- not all that surprising, considering the circumstances leading up to his birth - but he was solid enough that Hakoda felt brave enough to shift him into one arm, using his now-free hand to peel back the swaddling an get a better look at his grandson. He really was as beautiful as Katara described - a tawny complexion, an impressive amount of sleek black hair that glistened in the morning sun, a delicate bone structure. Physically, Kai looked the part of the Fire Nation prince through and through. He was startlingly similar to Zuko already, sharing in the vast majority of his features, but Hakoda could see Katara in there, too - mostly in the tint to his skin and in the wide, innocent shape of his eyes.

The little boy look somewhat bewildered at the sudden change in custodian, from his father and the inherent safety he represented to the peculiar older man beaming down at him. He inhaled deeply, as if he meant to wail.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Hakoda said reassuringly. “You’ve only just met me, kid. Give me a chance.” 

Kai looked even more alarmed at the unfamiliar voice but something turned him against the crying option, instead staring up at the stranger with a wary curiosity.

Zuko slid his arm around Katara and the pair of them were practically aglow with pride. She turned her head to murmur in his ear as they watched Hakoda interact with their son.

“We made that.” 

“We did.” 

The chief seemed to have won over the prince but it wasn’t too challenging a task. Kai had proven himself to be an amenable little character already - when he wasn’t suffering with his colic - and would go along quite happily with anyone that showed him some affection. Neither Katara or Zuko were sure exactly where on the family tree he’d inherited that from, but they weren’t about to complain. Nevertheless, he was starting to whine as the wind picked up speed, clenching the finger that Hakoda had offered him to accentuate his displeasure.

Maybe Kai _was_ going to be a firebender after all.

“I take back what I said. He _is_ your son.” Katara smirked as Kai grumbled at the cold.

“Oh, what a relief. I was wondering since he doesn’t look like me at all.” Zuko deadpanned.

Hakoda chuckled at them as he brought Kai in a little closer to his body. “Come on. Let’s get him out of the wind and you guys settled in.”

Zuko followed after the chief eagerly. He was never one to shy away from a walk. Travelling any prolonged distance on foot was novel for him - since his staff tended to insist that he use the palanquin for anything further than a minute or two in public space - but walking through the Water Tribe’s new city was always an especially exciting experience. The settlement had expanded so much, the lay of the land changed so drastically, that Zuko would never have been able to pinpoint the original site of the igloo that he and Katara had stayed in when it was still a village. Every time he came there was a bounty of new things to see as the Southern Water Tribe reanimated itself and the sight fuelled the figurative fire under him.

_This_ was what all the infuriating arguments with the Council over the reparation money was achieving. _Real_ change.

In some ways, Katara felt similarly. No one was more pleased to see the Southern Water Tribe thriving than her, but as she looked up at the grandiose buildings and around at the variety of strangers that surrounded her, a part of her couldn’t help but wish that it wasn’t _her_ village that had been chosen for regeneration; that she could have this place as a beacon for her people, but she could also return to the comfort of the life that she had known as a girl.

This place wasn’t hers anymore. Not really. She was a visitor, almost a stranger.

The feeling was abated slightly when they made it to her Dad’s igloo and her Gran Gran was there waiting, just the same as she always was, cooking up an eclectic breakfast of arctic hen meat, seaweed and some sort of scrambled egg over the fire. Almost as if she could sense her granddaughter’s lingering mourning, Kanna didn’t ask to hold the baby right away, instead peppering Katara with questions about herself - was she in any pain, was she getting enough sleep, was she staying hydrated, was she eating enough. Clearly her answers to the last two questions hadn’t been satisfactory, as she was sat down firmly with a generous bowl of food and a cup of water, Zuko right along with her. In any case, it was probably just as well Kanna was focusing on them, since Hakoda - having just had a freshly fed and changed Kai returned to him - didn’t seem ready to give his grandson up yet, too busy trying to coax a smile out of him.

(Kai was still mastering the social smile, but his spirited attempts at it were probably ten times more adorable than an actual smile anyway).

Hakoda’s moment of surrender arrived when Sokka burst in, muttering under his breath about those damn rookies and how they’d ruined the polar bear pelt that he’d wanted for his wall. He started a little when he looked up to find Katara and Zuko sitting on the rug in front of him.

“Hey, Katara. Hey, Zuko.”

“Sokka.”

Sokka’s eyes drifted around the room slowly. They stopped dead in their tracks when he saw the baby in his dad’s arms and he suddenly remembered why his sister was there in the first place.

“Oh.” was all he could think to say.

“Does Uncle Sokka want a cuddle?” Katara asked as she crossed the room and scooped her son out of Hakoda’s arms, offering him up to her brother instead. Sokka instantly dropped the sack of pelts he’d had slung over his shoulder. “He’s just been cleaned and fed so he probably won’t fuss.” She raised a wry eyebrow. “Unless he sees your face that is.”

“Ha ha. Very funny, Katara. So original.” Sokka rolled his eyes. “Give him to Uncle Sokka, then.”

She tipped Kai into his arms and stepped back expectantly. Katara had been anticipating this moment for her whole pregnancy.

For a long while, Sokka stood stock still and stared down at the infant. She might have understood it if the baby were asleep, but Kai’s state was quite the opposite. He was near ecstatic at the sight of Sokka, more curious of him than he had been of anyone he’d met so far - letting out a happy squeal, kicking his legs and reaching his starfish-like hands up to try and touch his uncle’s face. In Kai’s mind - and through his hazy eyesight - Sokka probably looked enough like his beloved mom that he judged him as instantly worthy of his affections.

Then Sokka tried to hide a snuffling noise that definitely wasn’t Kai with an attempt at subtlety and she noticed something glimmering on his cheeks. 

“Are you _crying_?”

“ _No_.” He insisted defensively, blinking hard to try and dispel the moisture but it only made things worse, more tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “There’s just something in my eye.”

“Yeah.” Zuko said archly. “Tears.”

“Alright, fine. I _am_ crying.” Sokka retorted with an almighty sniff. “My little sister and my best friend had a baby and he’s _cute_. You happy now?”

When Zuko got to his feet and put his hand on Katara’s back, she was about to burst out crying herself and, across the room, even Hakoda and Kanna looked like they were teetering on the edge of tears. He had to say something to get past this emotional calamity before they were all lost and sobbing over Kai.

“Don’t get your snot on my son, Sokka.”

Sokka choked out a laugh and the moment passed.

Still, it took a good hour or so later before Kai was finally prised out of Sokka’s arms by his great-grandmother, by which point he’d near enough grown tired of being passed around.

“How do you think he looks?” Katara asked apprehensively as Kanna examined him thoroughly despite his best attempts to wriggle away.

“Perfect.” Katara immediately relaxed. “He’s a little on the small side, but that’s nothing that some good nursing won’t fix and you seem to be doing just fine with that. He’s healthy and hale.” Kanna declared with a smile as she handed her squirming great-grandson back to his proud mother. “He has a fighting spirit that one, just like you and Sokka when you were born. Next thing you know he’ll be a teenager going out ice dodging for the first time.”

“Who _is_ going to take him ice dodging?” Sokka asked as he chewed on the bone of a chicken wing idly.

Hakoda was more than a little tempted to offer to take up the responsibility himself, since he’d missed the opportunity with his own son, but he shook it off and said: “Zuko is his father. He’ll take him.”

“But Zuko has never been himself.” Sokka pointed out, tossing the now-splintered bone into the fire-pit. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Zuko spent three years of his life at sea. I’m sure he can handle it.” Katara argued back on her husband’s behalf as he sat there a little nonplussed at the whole turn in conversation.

“Steering a engine-powered warship is a little different that steering a cutter through a run of icebergs in usually-rocky conditions, Katara.”

“And I virtually never did it myself anyway.” Zuko added vacantly. “I had a helmsman.” 

Sokka tutted. “Amateur.”

“It’s not a problem.” Hakoda patted Zuko’s shoulder as the Fire Lord glowered at Sokka. “I’ll take you out to do it tomorrow. Then one day, when Kai turns fourteen, you can preside over his initiation.”

Though Zuko hadn’t taken part in the ceremony yet, he knew exactly what it entailed. He was horrified by the prospect of messing up in front of his father-in-law and the whole tribe but he also knew how much of an honour this was - that he, the Fire Lord, an outsider in every way possible, was being invited to perform one of the Water Tribe’s most sacred rituals. He said as much but the chieftain just shook his head.

“It’s a rite of passage and when you married my daughter, you gained a place in this tribe, as much as Katara gained her place in the Fire Nation. I should have taken you to do it years ago.”

Sokka nodded along with his father before he clarified: “It won’t make you a queen, though. Katara got the better end of the deal there.”

“I’m not a queen.” Katara corrected pointedly as she rocked Kai - already halfway asleep from the excitement of the morning.

“Queen, Fire Lady, whatever. Same difference.”

Zuko agreed with his brother-in-law - the distinction was negligible - but Katara had always hated the Q word and she looked ready to dispute it so Zuko jumped in first. “I think I’ve got that base covered, Sokka, thanks.”

Thankfully, Sokka seemed to think better of going head to head with the new mother-bear version of his sister and let it drop. Eventually, when Kanna took her leave to go down to the school to teach, he and Zuko found an excuse to drift outside the house, out onto the courtyard, and - judging by the sounds of metal clanging on metal, the scuffling of snow beneath feet, the passionate trash-talking and the occasional sound of a body hitting the floor with no small amount of force - Katara had to assume that they were sparring together. 

Zuko and Sokka’s training sessions always began well. Both enjoyed having a worthy opponent to tangle with and Sokka still liked to pick up new things from a peer, a need which Zuko was happy to indulge. Katara had to admit that her brother was good, and he’d only gotten better by leaps and bounds since his schooling with Piandao, but Zuko had been a master swordsman for far longer - only eight years old when he’d been sent to Shu Jing. His blades were as much a part of him as his actual hands and he had more of the two elements critical to any discipline than Sokka did - experience and patience. With skill, determination and a bit of sheer chance, Zuko would knock Sokka to the ground a few times in a row. Sokka would get annoyed, his swordsmanship would get sloppy, hence Zuko - lured out from the responsible teacher role by the opportunity to humble his cocky brother-in-law - would knock him down a few more times and so the cycle took root, escalating more and more with each round.

The inevitable breaking point when Sokka went completely nuts, threw his sword down and went in bare-knuckled was always a treat to watch.

Katara was about to make sure that she was there to witness it, checking that the bindings strapping Kai to her chest were tightened, when a hand was placed on her forearm. The touch was gentle but firm enough to hold her in place.

She looked up and she was startled to see such acute concern on her dad’s face.

“Dad? Is something wrong?” 

“No, no, everything’s fine. It’s just...” Hakoda sighed and his eyes lingered on his grandson when he said: “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure.” she sat back down on her cushion, shushing her son back to sleep as he stirred at her movements, before she turned to look at her father, head tilted curiously. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”

“Dad, I-”

“Your mom... she struggled after she had you. Even though the pregnancy went smoothly and you were just perfect,” Hakoda tucked a stray hair behind her ear with a nostalgic smile. “-she wasn’t quite herself. Not for a long time. She’d have days where she wouldn’t let anyone come near you - not even me sometimes. Your mom was always a sensitive woman, just like you, but at that time she would cry over the smallest of things and she never wanted to talk about it either.” he sighed. “We helped her through it but it wasn’t until you were about a year old that she got past it completely. Her mom - your maternal grandmother - had been the same and I always wondered if it was inherited, so earlier when you seemed a little out of sorts, I guess I thought - with you having a difficult pregnancy, too - that maybe you were suffering that way.”

“Oh no, Dad. It’s not like that. The pregnancy _was_ hard and when he was born, there was so much to get my head around. Figuring out how to be a mom at the same time as being a wife and the Fire Lady and just being _Katara_ , too - it was a lot but I think I’ve got the hang of it now and besides, it’s all worth it for him.” she reassured, stroking her son’s silky black head fondly. “I’m fine, I promise.”

A burst of relief went through Hakoda but still he could see the edge of sadness in her eyes. “Then what _is_ bothering you?”

Katara held his gaze for a moment before she dropped her eyes with a sigh.

“Being here in the South... it used to make me feel grounded. It reminded me of who I was, what I was a part of, and I really could have used that feeling that right now. But our village, that life, it’s _gone_. I’m happy that the tribe is recovering and I’m so proud of everything that you and Sokka have achieved here, but it’s not mine. I don’t feel like I belong here anymore.” Hot tears prickled at her eyes. “And I miss Mom all the time - I wish _so_ much that she could know Kai and he could know her - but I think me feeling cut off from the tribe is making it worse.”

Hakoda wrapped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders, careful not to disturb the baby, sucking his thumb reflexively as he slept.

“Katara, even if the village were exactly how you left it, I think you would still feel the same. You _don’t_ belong here.” She blinked up at him, betrayed. “You belong with your family, with Kai and Zuko. They’re your home now.” he explained softly. “But that’s not to say that you’re not Water Tribe. Your roots are here, beneath the ice, and they always will be. When you’re ready to stand still for long enough, you’ll reconnect. Even if you’re away in the Fire Nation, it’ll find you.”

“And as for your mom, she would have been so proud of the woman you’ve become and she’d have loved Kai, too. I know it’s not the same as having her here but she’ll be with him, in his heart, just like she’s with the rest of us.”

He squeezed her a little tighter as she tried to staunch her tears on her sleeve.

“If it makes you feel any better, I miss our village, too. There were _way_ less difficult people to deal with back when there was only fifty of us.” 

Finally, that coaxed a laugh out of her. “I know that feeling.”

That does more to remind Hakoda of who she is than anything else. Katara had so many facets, so many connections - born in the smallest isolated corner of the world, the last of her kind for her all of her youth, growing up faster than her years before being thrust into a war, only for none of the burdens it brought to cede when it was over. A daughter, a sister, a master, a veteran, a leader, a wife, and now a mother - all those things resting on her shoulders with none of them quite matching up perfectly. No wonder she felt a little adrift in the world.

“I love you, Katara. More than anything.” he told her earnestly. “You will always have a place with me.”

“I love you, too, Dad. Thank you.”

Katara rested her head on his shoulder and he wound a curl around his finger - briefly wondering if things would have been the same if he’d never left that day, if he’d stayed and left the war to rage unimpeded - until there came an incensed growl-shriek from outside that indicated Zuko was successfully edging Sokka to the end of his tether.

He helped her to her feet with a smile.

“Come on. Your brother has been getting on my nerves all week and I _really_ want to watch him have his butt kicked a few times.”


	4. month 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey and happy holidays!
> 
> This chapter is kinda dialogue-heavy. Dialogue-centric writing isn't really my usual style but I've been trying so hard to finish this one and for so long that I'm just glad it's done and I'm happy with it. I hope you guys enjoy and the next chapter definitely won't be as long; this one I started from scratch whereas the next one is pretty much all finished except for some connective moments.

##  **month 3:**

“We’re going to pay for this big time tomorrow.”

Katara thought as far as condemnations go, that was fairly light for what had to be one of the _worst_ ideas Zuko had had in a long time.

She understood what Zuko was shooting for with this and she respected it. She really did. Zuko wanted Kai to grow up with a grasp on the world - the real one, outside of the walls of this palace, that he might very possibly preside over one day - but he was unsure as to how he was supposed to achieve that. Short of turfing him out of the front door at the age of thirteen and telling him not to come back for three years, there was no real way that Zuko could impart his perspective. His answer to this dilemma was to take Kai out to experience his country and beyond as often and as organically as they could. Katara had thought that seemed like a suitable resolution, but she hadn’t realised just how _early_ he wanted to start.

Kai was barely three months old. The only things that he cared about right now was his rattle, his cuddle blanket and the location of Katara - or rather his milk supply - at any given time. 

“I know, but he’s going to spend certainly his childhood and probably most of his life here in Caldera City. He should get a little preview, shouldn’t you, buddy?”

Zuko lifted Kai up to his eye-level and nudged their foreheads together, causing the baby to squeak - the closest thing to a giggle that he’d managed to produce so far - and pedal his legs in excitement. They were adorable, unbearably so, but Katara fought the urge to smile at them and crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Please, Katara.” he implored, settling Kai back into the crook of his elbow. “Just a short walk around town and we’ll come right back.”

He was looking at her like a puppy dog, his good eye widened as far as it would go, and - even though she knew full well that he was doing it on purpose - she couldn’t quite bring herself to kick him down. It didn’t help at all that Kai was looking at her with almost the exact same expression, even though there were no motives behind his cute face. 

“If he’s cranky tomorrow because he’s overtired then on your head be it.” she warned. “You’re looking after him, dawn to dusk, got it?” 

Katara realised a second too late that it was the wrong kind of threat to levy. Not only because it was obviously empty - it pained her to leave her baby for the two hour-long Council session once a week, there was no way she could manage a full day without him - but because Zuko was scheduled to be holding court tomorrow. Given the choice, Zuko would probably rather dress himself up in fillet steaks and go into a cage with a hungry tigerdillo than hold court, so the prospect of taking the day to deal with a grumpy baby instead was no sweat. In fact, it was probably a tempting alternative.

Zuko tactfully decided not to capitalise on those truths, only nodding solemnly.

She sighed. She’d been caught out.

She’d laid down a term - her ace card, too - and by doing so, she’d indicated to him that she could be persuaded. She couldn’t retract now, only add to the conditions.

“He has to stay in a sling the whole time we’re out.” 

He nodded again.

“And he’s going straight to bed - in his _crib,_ not on one of us - when we get back.”

Another nod.

Her options exhausted, Katara finally caved. “Fine. You win. Let’s get going before it’s too late.”

He was away before she’d even finished speaking, scampering across the room to his wardrobe like a kid himself.

Katara had been wondering how Zuko - the most recognisable person in the country - planned on slipping out of his own palace without being spotted. Of course, she knew from experience that her husband had a particular talent for getting out of places he should be and into places that he shouldn’t. One of her most treasured memories was when she’d first moved to Caldera, he’d sneaked her out of the palace in the dead of the night and broken into the observatory across the city to show her the lay of the land and the sky above it. They hadn’t been caught that time, nor on any of the other occasions they’d slunk away for their adventures - adventures that had turned into dates somewhere along the line - but things were different now. Back then, security had been tight, what with all the assassination threats hanging over Zuko’s head and a small portion of them actually manifesting, but even so there had been less guards around than there were now. Zuko had nearly tripled their numbers over time, first to extend to protect the new Fire Lady and then the new prince. Back then, Katara certainly hadn’t had a noisy baby tucked into her cloak that might alert the soldiers to their wayward royal family, either.

But it turned out to be a whole lot less difficult than she imagined.

Zuko strode out into the corridor, confidently told the pair of soldiers on duty that they were going out for a walk - notably non-specific as to _where_ they'd be walking - and they’d be back within two hours, and then they were away. With the council members, ministers, advisers, civil servants, nobles, domestic hands and all other manners of staff gone home for the day, the palace was near enough empty outside of their wing and it was pretty much a straight shot out of one of the staff back exits.

“There’s no way it’s that simple.” Katara said disbelievingly as she watched Zuko unbolt the door and hold it open for her.

“Well, I _am_ the Fire Lord. Technically, there’s nobody in the country - in the world - that can tell me no.”

She took a hesitant step over the threshold and out onto the vast circular plaza that ringed the palace. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, fully expecting to see a unit of soldiers frantically hurrying after them, but the hall was completely empty. “If it’s really that easy, then why on earth did we do all that sneaking around to get out of the palace before?” she asked as Zuko eased the door shut behind them and pulled his hood up to hide his face in shadow.

He flushed a little as he realised he’d backed himself right into revealing a historic fib. “Um... because I thought it would be fun?”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Try again.”

“Okay fine. I was a lonely eighteen-year-old kid and I had a crush on my new ambassador.” he admitted with about as much reluctance as if Katara were pulling his teeth. “Sneaking out like that meant I got to spend a little more time alone with you. And I was trying to impress you.” 

“And you thought the way to do that was to take me jumping out of windows and traipsing across the rooftops?”

Zuko just shrugged, scowling at the floor with his arms crossed petulantly.

The Fire Lady chuckled to her son, patting his back as he snuggled up to her chest, a tiny fist buried tight in the fabric of her dress. “Don’t you worry, sweetie.” she told him. “When you’re old enough for love, I’ll find you someone who actually has game to help you out. Maybe Aunt Ty Lee or Uncle Sokka. Hell, maybe even your Uncle Aang would give you better advice.”

“Okay, now that’s just a step too far. Aang is literally a monk _._ ” he pouted as he tugged up her hood for her. “I have _plenty_ of game. Anyway, you can’t make fun of me for my approach. _You_ married me. If I have no game, then what does that say about _your_ tastes?”

“Oh, stop it, you big baby. I’m just kidding.” Katara reached up and pinched his cheek affectionately. “I think it’s cute that you tried to romance me with parkour.”

“I didn’t _try_. I _did_.”

Zuko still looked slightly wounded as he released an indignant huff, but he offered up his arm nonetheless.

Just like the palace that it was built around, Caldera City was in the latter stages of winding down for the night. Katara had lived in the Fire Nation for a solid eight years, but she was still adjusting to the country’s early to bed and early to rise lifestyle - so harshly juxtaposed to her upbringing in the South Pole where they had no choice but to make the most of every last scrap of daylight. Katara’s last dregs of apprehension at being recognised fell away as they traversed the radius of the plaza undetected and disappeared into the dense tangle of the city. Even when they wandered further into the city’s western quarter, all the way to the streets crossing right through the heart of the district, their company was harmlessly minimal. Straggling workers on weary journeys home, a few dedicated traders trying to catch the former for a last-minute bargain, some families sat out on restaurant terraces with bowls of food, and bands of little kids snatching the final moments of playtime before they were shepherded in by their parents - none of whom much cared to pay attention to the two cloaked figures in their midst. 

The cute little baby they had with them, however, was a different matter.

Considering that by this time, he’d usually be out of the bath tub and halfway through his pre-bedtime massage - Katara had nearly giggled in front of the physician when she’d suggested _shiatsu_ as a way of easing the baby into sleep, but she’d soon eaten her words when it had actually worked for him most nights - Kai was remarkably alert. Leaned back as far as the sling would allow with Katara’s hands supporting his weight, his eyes were wide open as he eagerly swung his head left and right to soak up the unfamiliar surroundings.

Virtually everyone lingered in their step to admire the baby, smiling and waving and cooing as they passed by. Katara instinctively wanted to stop and let them get closer, but Zuko kept a firm grip on her elbow as he steered her forward. She might get away with it - especially with the slight influx of Water Tribe healers moving into Caldera to staff the new hospital that she herself had commissioned. Zuko, on the other hand, with his scar marking him out and a depiction of him to be found in every public space in the country, almost certainly wouldn’t be so lucky.

Zuko sighed with relief when they finally stepped up onto the empty district square. “I underestimated how much people like making a fuss of babies.”

“I guess we shouldn’t have made such a good-looking kid.” Katara said as she lifted Kai out of the bindings strapping him to her and passed him to Zuko, pausing for a second to nuzzle the crook of his neck and elicit a tickled squeal from him. “They just can’t help themselves, can they, buddy? You’re _far_ too adorable and handsome for anybody to ignore you.”

“You’re going to give this kid such an ego, Katara.” he told her as he hoisted their son up to his shoulder but even he couldn’t quite help himself either, murmuring in Kai’s ear. “You are kinda perfect, though, aren’t you?”

Kai wasn’t listening. His eyes had locked onto something over his father’s shoulder, something evidently more interesting than the decorative lanterns arching over the square that Zuko had brought him here to see.

“Hey. What am I? Old news?” Zuko swivelled on his heel to face the direction of his son’s gaze, repositioning the baby in the crook of his elbow. The park, Zuko realised, Kai was looking at the park, the smaller of the two within the walls of the volcano. “Oh. You wanna go there?” he asked as Kai stared intently at the city’s reservoir, the water’s surface a vivid canvas of dark yellows and pale reds and blush pinks as it shimmered in the sunset. 

“I guess he’s never seen a lake before.” Katara reasoned. “In fact, the only water he’s seen is in the bath tub, the fountain in my gardens and the ocean, and he probably doesn’t remember that last one.”

Zuko adored everything about Kai. Even when it was tough, when it was the tenth time he’d been woken up in less than half as many hours and he was exhausted to the point that his bones were heavy, the frustration was always dispelled the instant he looked down on the wide golden eyes peering up at him through the dark. But one of the things he loved best had to be how literally everything was a sensation to Kai, how even the most basic experiences of day-to-day life were inherently the newest and most exciting things to ever happen to him. Zuko didn’t usually have a lot of time in his life for the trivial. Duty most often entailed that if he had an hour spare, he owed it to a higher purpose like analysing committee reports or answering the never-ending stack of letters on his desk, not to waste on simple pleasures like feeling the breeze ruffle his hair or watching a bird pick about in the dirt. But Kai was his highest purpose now. If Kai wanted him to stand there and spend entirely too long rattling wind-chimes for him, then by the spirits and damn his advisers, that was exactly what he was going to do.

“Well, in that case,” Zuko held out his free arm to link with Katara’s. “Let’s go and take a look before we head back.”

Surprisingly, Bao Ying Park was more active than he might have guessed but it was mostly young couples sharing the vast green space with them. Zuko had been there. In fact, he’d been here specifically. He’d brought Katara to this park for a picnic once before, in that nebulous stretch of grey area where their excursions had hovered between platonic and romantic and neither of them had attempted to address it. He knew what it was like to be flush with new love; nobody else mattered except that one person and it would take something equivalent to a natural disaster to distract from that.

With no sign of a hurricane in the hazy orange sky above their heads and no trembling of an earthquake beneath their feet, Zuko judged it was probably safe enough for them to linger a while.

Katara seemed to be thinking of that time, too, as she led them to the same spot they’d chosen before, up on a slight incline overlooking the lake, a few paces away from the path. Unlike he and Katara, not much had changed in the setting since then. Even the flowers of the cherry tree they sat under were still in bloom, stubborn against the growing winter chill.

The atmosphere was wonderfully peaceful as they laid back on the grass and stared up into the canopy of cherry blossom, Zuko propped up on his elbow to keep an eye on their son, happily amusing himself with this and that as he was held upright between the press of their two bodies either side of him.

It wasn’t long, however, before he broke the tranquillity. “Were we like... officially dating when we came here before?”

Katara lifted her head from his chest. “Zuko, I kissed you that time. More than once.”

“I guess, but...” He trailed off as the look of pure incredulity on her face heated his cheeks. “That doesn’t mean it was mutually exclusive.” Zuko finished a little defensively. “Though it was on my part, I wasn’t seeing anyone else.” he added quickly.

She laughed. “Who else do you think I could have been entertaining? I’d only just moved here. I was still making friends, let alone _courting_ someone.”

“I don’t know. It’s rude to assume-”

“We were _dating_. Spirits, how is it that the Fire Lord can be such a dork?”

She laid back down on him, the rolled eyes at odds with the affectionate touch of her brushing his hair behind his ear, but it wasn’t long before she was sitting back up again, staring off into the distance. Zuko edged his elbow in nearer to see what she was looking at: the source of the faint laughter in the background. Two children, he discovered, a brother and sister playing with a rolling hoop while what he assumed to be their grandmother kept an eye from a nearby bench.

He’d done this before, too - watching Katara watching kids caper - but this time her look was more wistful than wanting.

“Sokka was such a pain in the butt when we were that age.” she said suddenly when she noticed his attention. “Washing his clothes, cleaning the igloo, making his food, getting him up every morning, managing the whole village... half of the time I wanted to wring him by the neck. I almost treated him like he was my kid-” There was a palpable sadness in Katara’s face as she watched the pair, a regret over what might have been. Zuko knew that pain well. That was essentially all he had of Azula. He was trying hard for it not to be so, but sometimes - _most_ times - it felt like swimming directly against a tidal wave. “-but he was my best friend, too. I don’t know where I would be, _what_ I would be, if I hadn’t had him around.” Katara continued, a small smile chasing away her grief as she picked her own baby up and resettled him against her leg for support. “It’ll be nice for Kai when he has a baby brother or sister like that and they can actually just enjoy being kids together.” 

Zuko was so busy pondering how Sokka would react if he relayed his sister’s sentiments to him - he’d probably laugh till he threw up then ask him if he’d had a little too much cactus juice - that it took him a few extra seconds to fully process her words.

Not _would have._ Not _could have._ Not _if._

_When._

Katara made a noise of displeasure as he bolted upright, shifting over a little.

“What? Do you not want to have two anymore?” she frowned as he stared across at her. “That succession amendment was all well and good but if Kai isn’t a firebender then you know we might have to give it atleast one more-”

“I thought that _you_ wouldn’t.” he interrupted. “After things went so badly with Kai and you never brought it up, I figured that maybe... maybe it just wasn’t meant to be for us.”

“Believe me, I understand that the abruption wasn’t pleasant and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hesitate about the idea of doing it again while I was still pregnant.” Katara sighed as she laced her hand with his. “But it didn’t happen because of anything we did or didn’t do. It was just luck, Zuko. Really terrible luck but we came through and as soon as I had him, it was all worth it.” she smiled as she ruffled her son’s hair. “There is a risk of recurrence, but it’s small. The chances of me having a normal pregnancy the second time round are almost exactly the same as anyone else’s.”

“It’s the almost that bothers me.”

“You and I, of all people, can’t live our lives in fear of what _might_ happen. We’d never do anything. Spirits, if we lived like that, you’d have listened to all your stuffy advisers when they said we were an unfit match and they’d have arranged you a marriage with an equally stuffy Fire Nation noblewoman instead.”

“Okay, fair point.” he chuckled. “It’s your body that does the heavy-lifting in this.” he told her as Katara studied him hopefully. “I feel like you get the bigger say in how many children we have and when.”

“Oh, really, Fire Lord?” She raised a playful eyebrow. “What if I decide I want _ten_?”

Zuko snorted.

Though she’d never said it aloud, always preferring to leave the maximum number of their hypothetical brood vague by answering with _‘atleast two’_ , he’d suspected all along that Katara actually favoured the idea of _‘more than two’_. Zuko had grown up in a palace where there was an inherent danger in trust, even towards your own blood. _Especially_ towards your own blood. Katara, on the other hand, had been raised in a landscape where division meant death. She had lived in the strength of a loving family, of a community, her whole life. She could have someone at her back and implicitly trust that they were going to protect it, not stab it. The Fire Nation was improving - Zuko had rooted out a significant portion of the vipers in the near ten years he’d sat on the throne - but progress was slow-going and it would never be as peaceable or familial as the Southern Water Tribe. It made sense that Katara would want to imitate the feelings of her upbringing for Kai by providing him with a few siblings instead. Despite their constant bickering, despite the fact they were about as opposite to one another as day and night, despite the fact that she would almost never tell him as much, Katara treasured Sokka. She knew the value of a sibling far better than most people - certainly more than Zuko.

Right now, Katara had that same look on her face that she wore when she was teasing said brother or toying with a dignitary that had slighted her - like a cat with a piece of string - but there was always a measure of purpose to the things she did. She was playing with him but she was also trying to read the terrain - judging how receptive he would be to the possibility of extending beyond two children - and, since the topic had presented itself, he thought it was worth handling her jest with a degree of seriousness.

There was a time where the idea of being responsible for just one child was overwhelmingly daunting - so much so that he had spent many a night lying awake thinking about it. He was certain that, at some stage, Katara’s deep longing for motherhood and the institutional pressure for there to be a successor would have forced him into defying that fear, but he wasn’t sure when that point would have arrived, had the decision not been taken out of his hands by fate - or rather by a weak batch of pavia root. But now, as he sat and watched Kai - his son, his baby, the centre of his entire world - propped up against his mother’s knee, squealing hysterically to himself as he buried his hands into the grass, the prospect of dedicating the rest of his adult life to several more of him didn’t seem so bad; long nights, dirty diapers and endless drool included.

And, well... he had to admit that he _really_ wanted a girl. A little girl with her mother’s curls and bright eyes and hopefully her waterbending skills, too. 

Zuko wanted atleast one of their children to be able to waterbend. Katara had come away from her ancestral home to be with him - it was only fair that she get to bring some of it with her - and he knew how important it was to her for there to not only be more Southern waterbenders, but also that she herself would get to help pass it along.

“Then I guess we better get started sooner rather than later.” he said wryly. “I hear that capacities start to diminish in the mid thirties. For both of us.”

Still, she looked unsure. He couldn’t exactly blame her for doubting his commitment, not after the four-year long limbo he’d subjected her to.

“More than two?” she pressed again.

“More than two.” he echoed firmly. 

Her smile was dazzling as she scooped Kai up into her lap and murmured into his ear. “What do you think, sweetie? Do you wanna be a big brother?”

It seemed that all Kai was thinking was how completely unfair it was that he’d been snatched away from the grass without warning, grumbling and wriggling in Katara’s arms before she set him back down again. 

“Not right away, though.” she said as she settled for running her fingers through her son’s feathery black locks instead. “Two kids is a whole lot different than only one and it’ll take a lot of preparation in advance. Dad used to say that parenting Sokka and I together was like trying to parent an octocrab: there was always too many hands everywhere they shouldn’t be or he’d blink and we’d already be gone making mischief. I’m up for that, but I think I’d like to just enjoy what we have now for a while. Have some time to bond with Kai one-on-one. Get used to life being parents and ruling at the same time before we try and throw another one into the mix.”

“I was kidding, Katara. We have so much time. We can do it whenever you want, whether that’s tomorrow or in a decade.”

“Mm, a decade is a little too long... maybe next year?”

“Whenever you want.”

Katara hummed with satisfaction as she tilted his chin up with a brush of her thumb along his jaw. She leaned in, the warm rush of her breath tickling his skin, before she moved back an inch teasingly, hovering in wait for him. Zuko closed the gap again gladly, burying a hand into her hair at the back of her head to draw her in. He’d only barely touched his lips to hers, her fingers curling around his shoulder, when something collided with the sole of his boot.

He pulled away to find a metal hoop settling into the grass in front of him and a figure hurrying over.

Zuko already had his hackles raised, his hand drifting down to within an centimetre of his swords and pulling up his legs so his feet were flat to the ground, ready to spring up into action. Katara wanted to hiss at him that he was being stupid - What was he gonna do? Draw a blade on a sweet old lady fetching her grandkids’ toy in public? - but really, she had no right to tell him that he was being irrational. Only last week, Zuko had almost had to sleep on the rug because he’d unwittingly triggered Katara’s maternal rage by calling their baby chunky. He'd meant it as a compliment to her, a recognition that the reason he was gaining weight was because she was doing such a good job of nourishing him. Katara hadn't seen it that way. 

They were both a special kind of crazy when it came to Kai, but perhaps she was a little vindicated as Zuko’s hand retreated from the pommels when he took a second to process the interruption.

“Sorry about that.” The elder woman flushed red as she took the rolling hoop from Zuko’s hand. “For what my grandchildren lack in skill, they sure do make up for in enthusiasm.”

“That’s okay. They’re just kids.”

The grandmother’s face softened when she turned to look to Katara appreciatively and saw the baby with her. 

“Oh, look at him, isn’t he a darling?” she gushed as she bent down slightly to tickle Kai’s chin. Kai, already well adjusted to strangers by the fussing offered from the nobility and staff alike, smiled right back up at her like an angelic vision. “What a beautiful little boy you have. You must be so proud of him. I miss when my children and grandchildren were this small.” The lady said with a nostalgic smile. “What’s his name?”

“Kaito.” Zuko said without thinking.

“Huh, just like the...”

Zuko tilted his face a little further to the side to make sure she didn’t see the shadow of his scar beneath his hood, but it was too late. The woman had already looked directly into Katara’s eyes - Katara’s eyes that are a distinctive shade of blue and clearly _not_ Fire Nation. That, coupled with the name that their son is probably the only bearer of in the whole country and the perfect alignment in age between the baby in front of her and the prince, was enough to immediately alert her to who she was really talking to.

He held his breath.

Zuko hadn’t been sure what to expect. He’d been heckled as much in public as he’d been praised, taken complaints and compliments over a breadth of topics so vast it was impossible to predict what he was going to hear from any one person. But he had anticipated a reaction of some sort, and it didn’t come. The lady simply straightened up like nothing had happened, smoothed down the front of her dress, offered them one last smile and a thanks - a thanks that he couldn’t help but wonder if extended beyond the rolling hoop - before turning away.

A silence stretched between them as they watched the stranger return to the children, giving them back the hoop and resettling on the bench as if nothing had happened at all, not even glancing in their direction once.

“Do you ever feel weird about this?” Katara said eventually, her voice so low that he barely heard her over their son’s enthusiastic babbling as he continued playing with the grass.

“About what?”

“About that woman. About everyone we meet. We only spoke to her for literally less than a minute - we didn’t even get her name - and it was perfectly ordinary to us. We probably won’t remember this in a year. But for her, that moment where she ran into us in the park will probably stay with her for the rest of her life; a story she tells over and over and over. All because we wear a special piece of jewellery in our hair.”

“Less to do with the jewellery itself. More what it symbolises, I think.” He offered her a jocular smirk but it died a death at the unimpressed look on her face. “Yes, sometimes it does feel weird,” he admitted. “... but if I dwelt on it too long, then my whole existence would feel weird - all I’d be is the crown - so I just accept it for what it is. I guess it’s easier because I was born to it. It’s just life to me.”

“What bits of your life _aren’t_ extraordinary in some way, Zuko?”

“This. Me and you. You and him. Us.” he gestured between them and their son. “Our family is extraordinary to _me_ because it’s mine, but you don’t see me as the Fire Lord. I’m your husband, I’m Kai’s father, I’m Kiyi and Azula’s brother, I’m your dad’s son-in-law. Obviously you all know that I _am_ the Fire Lord, but it’s superfluous; I’m important to you in a way that everyone in the world can be to their loved ones.”

Zuko’s brow furrowed with concern as he noted her unsettled expression. “Does it bother you? The way you’re seen by people outside our family?”

“Not as much as it used to - you know how much I hated all the bowing and scraping when we first got married - but still, a little.” she sighed. “It doesn’t seem right to have people react to me like that just because of who my husband is.”

He had been nodding along quite happily until that last part, the sympathy quickly supplanted by confusion. “Katara, you would have had that effect on people whether we’d married or not. You know that, right?”

She blinked in surprise. So much of her life had been consumed characterised by the crescent-shaped crown on her head - a change she herself had initiated but a change nonetheless. It was hard to imagine that the high pedestal entailed with being the Fire Lady was _not_ the sole cause of her eminence. But then, she supposed, maybe Zuko had a point. Ever since the end of the war, before even, she was rarely just Katara - atleast not in the public’s attention. As she’d travelled with Aang, wherever they went people knew her as the Avatar’s girlfriend. For the brief times she’d been at home in the Southern Water Tribe, she was the daughter of the chief and the sister of the next. When she’d relocated to the Fire Nation, her ambassadorial status had set her apart and then, eventually, she’d acquired the standing that had come with everyone knowing that she was Zuko’s choice and he was hers, even if the deal had had yet to be sealed with a formal engagement. She’d always had something else to attribute her impact to.

“Would I have?” she ventured after a moment.

“Yes, of course. The way people respond to you... it’s not just because you’re the Fire Lady. It’s because you’re a war hero, you were the Avatar’s master, and because you’re the best waterbender in the world.”

“I don’t know about the _world_ -”

“Stop being so modest, Katara. You _are_.” Zuko insisted, taking her hand in his. “You’re the only realised bender from the Southern Water Tribe and Pakku is agreed to be the best from the North. You gave him a run for his money when you were a kid with no training or experience whatsoever. Then you went on to defeat Hama and Azula, too. You literally resurrected Aang and you did all of that when you were fourteen years old. Your power has only grown year on year since then. There’s not a waterbender out there that’s stronger than you and people know that.”

Katara frowned. “So what you’re saying is, people are... afraid of me?”

_Nice going, Zuko._

“No, that’s not what I meant. What I mean is people admire you because of who _you_ are.” he amended hurriedly, resisting the urge to slap his forehead. “It has nothing to do with you being Fire Lady, certainly not outside of the Fire Nation.”

He’d managed some better saves than that in the past, but Katara seemed content enough with his explanation anyway. She leaned back a little further, her curls picked up by the gentle breeze. “General people might not be, but I think some of your ministers are afraid of me.”

He knew for certain that they were - probably a great deal more of them than Katara gave herself credit for - but he just shrugged. “Only the ones who have a reason to be.”

“Between me and you,” she said as she picked Kai up and put him into her lap again. This time, he didn’t fight her. Evidently the grass has lost its novelty and time was ticking on, a yawn creasing his tiny face as he settled against Katara. “This kid is going to eat reactionaries for breakfast.”

Zuko smiled at that. 

“We can only hope.”


	5. month 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I finished this faster than I thought I would. I think this one has been the one I had the most fun writing so far so I hope you guys enjoy as much as I did. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and stay safe!
> 
> Just so you all know, I've read every single one of the comments on not just this fic but all the other parts many, many times. When I first started out writing I'd reply to them all but as time has gone on, it felt kinda cheap as I was saying the same things over and over and it never felt like I was completely imparting just how valuable it is for me to see people interacting with my work. Your comments give me so much life, knowing that other people are loving the writing as much as I am. You never quite know if you're doing it right no matter how many times you get good feedback and I'm sure a lot of you guys that write, too, can resonate with that. I'd like to think I would write off of my own steam because I enjoy it but all the kudos and bookmarks and comments just gives me that extra lil bonus, so thank you all very much for leaving them <3

##  **month 4:**

“Do we have any final motions to be forwarded today?”

Zuko’s eyes flitted around the other world leaders with a look he hoped was vaguely threatening enough to prevent any further discussions from taking root.

Fortunately the mediator banged the gavel against the table without any interruption and the end of yet another tedious day at the summit was signalled. Zuko relaxed back into his seat with about all the grace of a marionette cut from its strings. _Indecorous_ , he could hear his childhood tutor’s strident tone bouncing around in his head, _hardly befitting of a Fire Lord-to-be, is it, Prince Zuko?_ Spirits, he’d forgotten how much he’d hated that woman; enough that even with his face scarred and his birthright stripped, floating in the unknown of exile, he’d considered her absence from his life to be a small consolation.

If only she could see him now. 

In any case, Zuko was beyond caring about the opinions of his potentially-dead former governess or that of his fellow heads of state. The only thought that consumed his mind right now was that there was only one more day of talks remaining before they could return home and sleep in their own bed again.

Katara seemed to be having a similar thought when she glanced over at him with a glad smile, squeezing their entwined hands hidden beneath the table-top.

The rest of the leaders were lingering in the chamber, mingling with each other in more informal chat. Reasonably, Zuko knew they should stay and join the conversation, if only because their absence might be interpreted as indifference, but he could see in the glaze over her eyes that Katara’s mind was elsewhere - in the very same place that his was. A silent agreement passed between them as they rose from their seats in tandem and slipped out of the meeting room unnoticed - or so they thought.

Even with their eager pace, they only make it about halfway down the corridor before a familiar voice called out.

“Fire Lord Zuko! Lady Katara!”

Zuko held back a sigh as they stopped in their tracks, turning around reluctantly.

“I just wanted to say, Lady Katara-” Kuei started breathlessly as he caught up with them, dragging his own wife along on his arm. “-Keshi and I are quite taken with your idea about establishing an international... what was it you called it? A think-tank, yes! For what the Earth Kingdom lacks in industrial expertise like the Fire Nation or some specific natural resources like the Southern Water Tribe, we have many a great farmer, miner and other artisans. Perhaps a collaboration and exchange bureau could benefit us all.”

_We’ve been saying that literally all along, Kuei_ , _you just refused to listen,_ Zuko seethed in his head but he bit his tongue and let Katara do the talking - once an ambassador, always an ambassador.

“I think so, too! We have a lot to share but I’m sure there’s _plenty_ that the Fire Nation can learn from the Earth Kingdom, too.” Katara stressed the word in an almost flirtatious tone and the political flattery was working - Kuei looked well and truly seduced by the Fire Lady’s play.

Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered putting his headpiece on every day when Katara existed.

“Perhaps you’d like to join us for dinner tonight to discuss it a little more? Save time on the agenda tomorrow so you can make an earlier departure home?” The Earth Queen smiled. 

Zuko fought hard to contain his grimace. 

Zuko - despite his very best efforts - didn’t like Kuei. It was a particularly unfortunate sentiment, given that the Earth King was probably the leader that he had to deal with the most as Fire Lord, and one that he initially felt a lot of guilt for; after all his people had done to the Earth Kingdom, the least he could do was get along with their representative, even after the fiasco over Yu Dao. But Kuei infuriated Zuko just as much now as he did ten years ago. He was stubbornly arbitrary in how he approached international negotiations - something that was supposed to conducted in a spirit that was the complete _opposite_ of arbitrary - and after a decade of trying to strengthen relations with him, he doubted that was ever going to change.

Ordinarily, he’d look to Katara to be the voice of reason in situations like this but the fatal flaw was that she wasn’t much fond of the Earth King either - deliberate or not, she’d never quite let go of his condescension towards the Water Tribe.

(Spirits help them if Kai or any child of theirs yet to come ever had their heart broken by someone; Katara would probably hold a grudge on their behalf for the rest of her life and then from beyond the grave)

Zuko couldn’t think of anything worse than a voluntary dinner with Kuei, especially after an already-long day of politicking, but they really shouldn’t reject this offer. Privately disliking Kuei was one thing, openly slighting him by turning down a dinner invitation quite another and it _would_ be in the service of their-

“We would be honoured,” Katara’s voice interjected into his thoughts, wearing her best political smile. “-but we really can’t leave our son.”

Kuei blinked. “Not even for a few hours? Doesn’t he have a minder?”

Zuko could see where his wife was going with this and her genius never ceased to amaze him.

“He does but because we keep Kai with us most of the time at home, he doesn’t know her very well.” he explained hurriedly before the gap in conversation could stretch to a suspicious degree. Besides, it wasn’t _technically_ a lie. “We’ve never left him in the evening before, either, so he’d probably get quite distressed if he woke up and we weren’t there.”

“That’s a pity,” Keshi sighed and she genuinely looked disappointed. “-but it’s sweet that you both share such a strong bond with your son. When Kuei and I have children one day, I would like to be so close with them.”

Katara nodded solemnly, linking her arm with Zuko’s and looking up to him with a subtle wink on the hidden side of her face. “It really is special, isn’t it, dearest?”

“Yes, _my darling_.” 

They were really using their four-month old baby as a political loophole. Zuko probably would have felt a little bit guilty about it later on, were it not for the fact that it seemed to have worked.

Or atleast, it _would_ have worked had the Avatar not been listening in.

“Wait a minute, Kai knows us.” Zuko jumped when Aang came up behind him. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the little twelve-year old kid he’d trained being just as tall as he was now - and with a _beard_. “We’ll babysit him for you.”

“We _will_?” Toph exclaimed.

Zuko wasn’t sure why Toph was at these summits, what she did when she was there, or even _how_ she got in, but she was always there without fail. Was it on account of her being the Avatar’s sort-of girlfriend? Was it on account of her being the world’s only metalbender and that lent a sense of enormity? Was it on account of her being Toph Beifong and everyone was just too scared to tell her she wasn’t allowed in? Who knew. For all Zuko was aware, she could be telling the guards that she was in _his_ entourage but even if she was, he didn’t really care. He, Katara, Aang and Sokka were there for the political obligations, Suki for security - it wouldn’t make sense if Toph wasn’t there, too.

“Oh no, Aang, you don’t have to do-”

“Wonderful!” Kuei cut Katara off with an enthusiastic clap of his hands. “Come by our quarters at seven o’clock sharp. See you then!”

And with that, the Earth Kingdom procession was gone, with the Earth Queen offering them a polite little wave goodbye. 

Keshi wasn’t so bad, Zuko thought to himself. In fact, Zuko actually _liked_ her - no small statement when he just tolerated most people. If only she were a queen regnant and not a consort - and a mostly powerless one at that. 

The once-Team Avatar took their example - or rather Zuko and Katara went back to their rooms and the rest just followed them there. Zuko wasn’t about to complain about the company in their wake because he had a much larger bone to pick.

The second that the door was shut and they were beyond range of ears and eyes outside the group, Zuko smacked Aang up the back of his head.

“Ow! What was that for? I’m doing you a favour!”

“A _favour_? Are you kidding me? We were trying to get _out_ of dinner with Kuei, not into it!”

“Oh. Well, how was I supposed to know that? You’re the Fire Lord. It’s your _job_ to sit through fancy dinners.”

“You’re the Avatar. It’s _your_ job to read the room.”

“Alright, fine, I’m sorry.” Aang caved as Zuko glared, one hand held up defensively while the other rubbed the red mark on his head. “I’ll go and tell Kuei that something important came up and we can’t watch Kai so you guys don’t have to go to dinner with him.”

“Or I’ll go instead if you want.” Sokka offered in a magnanimous tone, throwing himself back into an ornate armchair that looked a little too tenuous for such force. “I like eating.”

Fortunately for Aang, he was spared the addition of Katara’s wrath as Yumiko picked the opportune moment to come out of the conjoining room with the young Fire Prince in her arms. Kai squeaked at the sudden reappearance of his parents, hands reaching out towards them. The Fire Lady was more than happy to oblige her son. She darted across the room in a flurry of blue and red skirts and swept her baby up into a cuddle, Zuko only half a pace behind her.

“Hey, little guy.” Zuko leaned over Katara’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of their son’s head. “How’s he been? he asked the maid as Katara planted an abundance of pecks on Kai’s cheeks, making him giggle uncontrollably.

“Fine, as always, my Lord.” Yumi said with a smile. “He napped in his basket for about two hours after you left. He drained the bottle you left for him, then I put him down on the floor for an hour. He’s getting so much stronger, right? He rolled over on his own loads of times today.”

That detail piqued his mother’s ears. Though they’d seen him roll over before, it had always taken no small amount of effort from him. “He did?” She knelt to lay Kai down on the play-mat. “Show Mama what you can do, sweetie.”

“After that, I played with him for a bit longer, then he went down for another nap for an hour.” Yumi continued as Katara eagerly tried to coax her son to roll over for her. “He’s just woken again so I imagine he’ll be wanting another feed now.”

Katara had asserted long before she’d ever become pregnant that she didn’t want her children to be raised by others. Zuko - who, despite his mother’s competence, had spent the majority of his childhood in the care of an ensemble of nursemaids - had firmly agreed. Nevertheless, they’d had to concede that there would be brief occasions when a third set of hands was needed to stand in for them. The eldest of four siblings, Yumiko was excellent with babies. Katara trusted her with her life and therefore the same applied on Zuko’s part. There was nobody better suited to minding the prince than Yumi and she always reassured them that Kai was absolutely fine with it when they left, and remained so the whole time they were gone. Yet, both he and Katara still wondered if there would ever be a time when leaving their son, perfectly safe and cared for, wouldn’t feel like the most heinous of betrayals. 

The familiar guilt was rearing its head as he watched Katara adoringly applaud their baby boy’s flip-flopping between his back and stomach. He didn’t know if he had it in him to leave Kai for a third time today - not even with his wife’s sound reasoning that having time apart from him was good for all three of them reciting in his head - but before he could act on it, Katara straightened up and took the metaphorical reins from his hands.

“That’s okay, Aang. It’s really nice of you to offer.” Her smile was more confident than she felt inside, but a glance at Zuko told her that he was wavering more severely; it was her turn to be the rational one. “It does make sense for us to leave Kai with family the first night we try and go out, so we will go to the dinner, but only if you’re sure you can handle him. He’s still only little.”

Aang nodded firmly. “We can do it.”

“Again with the _we_.”

“Come on, Sokka. You’re his uncle. His _real,_ blooduncle.” he appealed but Sokka was unmoved, leg hanging over the arm of his chair lazily. Aang sighed. “I’ll take you shopping in the Upper Ring tomorrow if you’ll help?”

Sokka’s undying fickleness was immediately satisfied but he made a perfunctory show of a considered change of heart.

“Maybe it _won’t_ be so bad spending some quality time with our dear nephew after all. Don’t you think, Suki?”

It was a worthy move, trying to rope Suki in. Among her many other talents, Suki did have a special way with people that reached beyond the appeal of her bright makeup and her unusual uniform. The only way that Zuko could explain it was that Suki had a soothing aura to her, one that instantly made people feel secure in her company. It had been invaluable to him in those first few years as Fire Lord and even now, he was never more at ease than when he knew it was Suki watching his back. Babies were no exception to this mysterious power of hers and Kai was a particular sucker for Auntie Suki. Having her around would practically guarantee that babysitting duty went smoothly, but Suki was wise to her husband’s play.

“Nice try, but who do you think is watching this soirée?” she smirked, crouching to tickle Kai’s chin as he babbled away to her enthusiastically. “I’m gonna be making sure these two don’t get killed.”

An uneasy look flitted between Aang and Sokka as the combined experience level of their babysitting team plummeted to almost nought. The only other pair of hands available was no more skilled than them but it was too late to back out now and three of them suffering together somehow seemed better than two.

“Toph, you’ll help us, right?”

The earthbender froze.

She liked Kai. He was the son of two of her best friends and the first child to be born into their group - of course she _liked_ him. But Toph wasn’t a baby person. They were loud and sticky and unpredictable and _fragile_. That last descriptor felt particularly pointed when it came to the Fire Prince. He was Katara and Zuko’s first baby - though she had no doubt that he wouldn’t be their last - and Toph vividly remembered the time when it hadn’t been at all a given that the kid was even going to make it into the world. The fact that Kai was _here_ , that he was alive and healthy and so was his mother, just made him that little bit more precious - so precious that it had only been on her second visit that Toph had actually plucked up the courage to touch him, let alone hold him. 

“I don’t know about _help_ you,” Toph folded her arms adamantly. “-but I’ll probably be... around. Maybe.”

“Okay, that’s settled.” Zuko said quickly before the conversation could proceed any further. “We’ll see you guys later then.”

He knew he was probably being selfish. It _was_ nice of Aang to volunteer. Under any other circumstances, he would be grateful and behave like it, but if he had to dedicate his evening to making inane small-talk and trying to weave his way around Kuei’s mindset of no-compromise at all costs - an endeavour that would surely have Zuko wanting to smash his head through a brick wall by the end of it - then he wanted to spend the remainder of his time winding down with his wife and son alone. In any case, just as Yumi had predicted, Kai was beginning to make his empty stomach known - body wriggling as he stared up at Katara, opening and closing his mouth suggestively like a baby bird.

Aang, Toph and Sokka were, of course, oblivious to the intentions behind Zuko’s brashness and the signals of the baby’s brewing hunger. Luckily Suki was wise to both signs and somehow managed to usher them all towards the door with her as she passed by. 

“Back here before seven?” he called as they took their leave.

“You got it, Sifu Hotman.” Aang grinned before he ducked out of sight, launching himself into a conversation with Sokka about going sledding down the roof of the palace on roll mats.

Zuko huffed.

How was it that the hundred-and-twenty-two year old man made _him_ feel like the old one?

* * *

Zuko straightened up his papers on the desk and took one last look at his notes. He wasn’t sure if it was his heavy dress robes or just the pressure of the impending meeting making him sweat. It didn’t matter. He had to wear the robes and he had to go to the dinner - his discomfort wasn’t remediable and therefore wasn’t worth his time. What _was_ worth his time was making sure he went into this fight prepared, because nothing was ever easy when it came to international negotiation and never with Kuei.

_Exchange your military and science know-how for help with architecture development and maximising the safe productivity of the mining communities. Concede on metal-working and fuel trade if you have to, but not too much because they’re both already committed to the South Pole and Aang will probably need help with regenerating the Air Temples after that._

“Stop _thinking_ so loud, Zuko. You’re making _my_ head hurt.”

He looked up at his wife just as she turned away, pulling her hair over her shoulder to present her open back to him.

“Fasten me up?” 

Zuko was a little daunted by the sheer length of material he was being asked to conquer - from the small of her back to high up on her neck just below her hairline - but he stood from his desk, picked up the strings and gave it a go. In the end, he didn’t do _too_ bad of a job. Katara hadn’t complained about it being constricting, but he was sure it was laced tight enough that it wouldn’t come undone and expose her either.

“You’re wearing all red.” he realised as she stepped away to check her reflection.

“Well, I am on Fire Nation business. Got to look the part.” she smiled at him in the mirror. “And you always say I look good in red.”

_Better than good_ , Zuko thought to himself.

In his eyes, though she would always belong in the blues, whites and silvers of her tribe on a regular day, Katara looked _amazing_ in red and her outfit tonight particularly flaunted it. 

Rather than her traditional Fire Lady robes of mixed shades, she’d selected something out of her personal wardrobe - a dress of crimson satin that reached all the way down to the floor and pooled into a modest train at her heels. It was an unusual design, he noted; high-necked, with rigid shoulders that reminded him of pauldrons on a suit of armour and split sleeves that flowed down to blend into her skirts. It was the embellishments that drew the most attention, though. Golden flames shimmered all over the material - dancing up from her skirts, in wreathes encircling her waist and her collar, reaching along and blossoming over her shoulder blades to taper off down her arms. Her tassel earrings and the crown in her hair - styled like it was during her first stay in the Fire Nation, loose except for the topknot holding her headpiece and the Water Tribe ties behind her ears - made the gilt thread stand out all the more.

“Do I look okay?” she asked, arranging her skirts around her. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

He always said the same thing, but he meant it every time.

“You look beautiful, Katara.” he answered emphatically.

“You don’t scrub up so bad yourself, _Fire Lord_.” she teased as she took one last twirl in the mirror, but the tension in her face had dissipated. Katara had never been vain, not in the slightest, but her confidence had taken a bit of a knock after Kai. She was still reconciling with the physical changes that motherhood had left her with and living in the palace, surrounded constantly by the thirst for pomp and perfection, hadn’t helped her much in that respect. That extra bit of reassurance didn’t hurt. “I guess there’s hope for me as a trophy Fire Lady after all.”

“Don’t you dare.” he chuckled as she pulled him in by a fistful of his collar.

In the quiet of the room, they could indulge in each other’s company a little longer than they usually had the time for. They’d probably have been late to dinner if it weren’t for Toph stomping through the door unannounced.

“Ewww, Mom and Dad are _kissing_.”

They jumped apart and Zuko was outraged to find himself getting embarrassed. What did he have to be embarrassed about? It was their room, they were both grown-ups. She was his _wife_ , for Agni’s sake, they had a _child_ together. Still, he could feel a heat spreading up his neck and warming his cheeks.

The only consolation in his humiliation that Katara was looking sheepish herself.

“How do you even _know_ that?”

“I’m blind, not deaf, Sparky.” 

“Gross.” Sokka was there, too, arms folded as he watched them in disgust before Toph turned on him.

“Gross? What do _you_ mean _gross_? How many times when we’ve been travelling together have I had to come and tell you and Suki to keep it in your pants because I couldn’t get any sleep? _Hundreds_!”

Zuko might have been amused at seeing his brother-in-law so thoroughly shown up - if it weren’t for the fact that he and Katara had done their fair share of romancing when Toph was in the vicinity, too. How could they _not_ have? At that time, they were barely more than teenagers, new in their relationship, fuelled by hormones and figuring out exactly how everything worked. Still, Toph had never come to yell at them during their... _trysts_ so maybe she hadn’t ever heard them, he hoped. But when Toph stared directly at him with a cunning smile on her face, his hope withered and he knew instantly that their fumbling attempts to keep things quiet hadn’t been successful. His stomach plunged to his feet and even Katara, who was usually pretty laid back about these sorts of things, looked shifty. They both winced in anticipation of the ultimate embarrassment about to come crashing down on them, but Toph was interrupted before she could start.

Aang popped his head around the door as Sokka, Zuko and Katara cringed. “Do you want us to come back later?”

Zuko waved him in with a sigh. “No, just get in here.”

There was no way that Aang could have missed that everyone but Toph was the colour of tomatoes but he chose not to remark on it, turning in a circle and looking around the room with a frown before he asked. “Where’s the baby?”

Zuko was grateful of the redirection. “Already asleep, luckily for you.”

They all gravitated towards the bassinet, except Toph who threw herself down in Katara’s anointed nursing chair sullenly, a metal bar in hand for her to hone her bending - or rather, take out her bad mood out on. They’d come to _Ba Sing Se_ , the biggest city in the world. There were a thousand other things to do out there but no - Toph got to spend her time sitting and watching a baby that most likely wasn’t going to do anything interesting for the whole evening. She was still going to do it - it wasn’t like she’d be able to have much fun without any company anyway - but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to sulk about it the whole time.

“How does he get to be even cuter when he’s sleeping? It’s not fair.” Sokka whispered as he stared down on his nephew. Kai was indeed looking unbearably adorable - one tiny hand curled in a fist, the other with a thumb stuck in his mouth, long eyelashes fanned against his round, rosy cheeks as he snored lightly.

“He doesn’t even look real.” Aang murmured.

Unfortunately, they were quickly reminded of just how real Kai was when his father stepped in and began providing instructions for his care.

“He’s just been fed and changed,” Zuko started rattling off orders. “-so as long as you keep the noise to a minimum, he should stay down for the rest of the night.” 

Aang sighed with relief. “Great.”

“If he does wake up, give him this,” Zuko dropped the winged-lemur teddy into the Avatar’s hand. The thing was practically threadbare by now and covered in a layer of grime and spit-up that refused to wash out, but Aang had given Kai the comforter as a newborn and he was particularly attached to it - Agni knows what would happen when it really became unusable. “-and he should nurse himself back to sleep with it. He might need a little reassuring that someone’s there, though, so don’t be afraid to pick him up and cuddle him, but not too much. You don’t want him falling asleep on you if you can help it, he doesn’t transfer that well. If he doesn’t drift off with just the toy, he’s started teething so try letting him chew your fingers-”

“Make sure they’re clean first!” Katara added sternly.

Toph had dealt with Katara and Zuko’s parental ways plenty in their time travelling together so it really shouldn’t have felt as unsettling as it did to think that Katara was someone’s actual mom now, that Zuko was someone’s dad. It was the height of irrationality, but she was actually kind of... _jealous_.

_Come on, Toph. Jealous? Of a four-month-old kid who can only barely roll over on his own? Get a grip._

_S_ he berated herself but still she couldn’t help but feel it, knowing that Kai would never be able to completely appreciate just how lucky he was to grow up with parents as loving and supportive as Zuko and Katara would be. 

As Zuko and Katara _are_.

The rest of the room was oblivious to her turmoil as Zuko nodded along with his wife’s warning as he continued. “If neither of those things settle him, then it’ll probably be because he needs changing. Diapers and fresh pyjamas are in the drawer over there. If it’s really bad, there’s a smaller tub in the bathroom for you to wash him down in. Make sure you use the _mild_ soap bottle - his skin can be a little delicate - and use hot water, but test it with your elbow first.” Zuko tried not to laugh as Sokka turned a greenish hue at the thought. Zuko had personally witnessed Sokka gut and skin game without batting an eyelid, but somehow it was the possibility of dealing with a dirty diaper that was one step too far. He had no saviour in Aang, either, who was looking a little peaky, too. “Once you’ve cleaned him up, swaddle him, tuck him in the crib with his toy, rock it gently and he should go right back off.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Sokka asked as he eyed the sleeping baby dubiously.

The Fire Lord shrugged, a chaff smile on his face. “Sounds like a you problem, Sokka.”

“Don’t be mean.” He bit down on a yelp as Katara drove her elbow straight into his ribs before she answered her brother. “If he’s getting upset and you can’t calm him down, just send us a message and one of us will come back.”

Zuko took a moment to ask himself which duty he’d rather have in this scenario - dealing with Kai mid-meltdown or sitting alone at dinner with Kuei and Keshi.

Who’d have thought there could be a scenario in which handling a screaming baby would be the preferable job.

“Don’t worry, Katara.” Aang reassured. “We’ll be fine. How hard can it be?”

Katara was smiling and nodding encouragingly and really, she was right for doing so - it _shouldn’t_ be hard. They were telling the truth when they said that Kai should stay down for the entire time they were gone - and he was old enough now that he’d probably sleep well into the early hours of the morning for good measure - but Zuko was consumed with apprehension at Aang’s reckless tempting of fate. Kai was good, but he was still a baby; he would never be entirely predictable and there was practically nothing about Kai that didn’t make Zuko nervous.

There was nothing else for it, though. It was too late to back out of dinner without it being construed offensively and in the political game, it wasn’t a risk worth taking. Even Katara was pulling him away. It wouldn’t take much to hinder her conviction. It had only been on the fourth time away from Kai that she hadn’t burst into tears upon leaving him and still she never seemed to breathe quite right when she was separated from him, so Zuko followed her lead.

“We’ll be back by ten.” Zuko called as he stepped into the hall. “Good luck.”

And with that they were gone, the door gently eased shut behind them.

“Okay.” Aang started as he turned back to face his companions. “So all we have to do is sit here and be quiet for three hours. We can do that no problem.”

Toph rolled her eyes as the two men grinned and patted each other’s backs with outrageous confidence. She was supposed to be the blind one, and yet somehow both Aang and Sokka had missed the fact that neither of them could be quiet for three _minutes_ by themselves, let alone three hours spent together.

In all credit to them, they lasted _a little_ longer than Toph had expected. 

For a whole five minutes, there was quiet as Sokka put a whetstone to his already-sharpened sword and Aang tried to meditate (though, from the way his heartbeat was thrumming away at standard pace in Toph’s ears, he was utterly failing). Naturally, Sokka was the first to cave, whipping out his latest boomerang to show off. Sokka claimed that the improvements of his new design - the body moulded from a lighter alloy and the edge of the leading wing shaped to be more aerodynamic - meant the boomerang could throw and return over a distance as far as two-hundred metres. It sounded implausible, but they didn’t get to find out if it was true or not. What they did get to find out was how _loud_ it was when its owner stumbled and dropped it onto the stone floor.

The Avatar reflexively slammed his foot down on the throwing stick to stop the clatter from continuing as it came to rest flat. “ _Sokka!_ ”

“Shhh!” Sokka hissed back, eyes wide and shoulders tensed.

A hesitant little whimper came up from the other side of the room.

Aang winced at the sound of metal scraping stone as he stepped off the boomerang to dart over to the baby. Kai was still hovering between sleeping and waking when he peeked over the edge of the crib - face scrunched up in displeasure, making faint stirring noises as he tossed against the mattress - but his closed eyes seemed to hint at the possibility of recovery. Aang hurriedly laid the Momo toy down next to him, the worn fur brushing against the knuckles of his balled-up fist, but it was too late.

His golden eyes fluttered open - beautiful, but dooming. 

Aang smiled weakly.

“Hi.” 

An ominous silence blanketed the room. The Avatar and the Fire Prince staring each other down. Aang felt a shiver rocket down his spine, along with a strange feeling like he’d done this all before. One tick of the clock went by. Two. He felt Sokka and Toph’s consternation burning into him. Then, inevitably, the baby cried, loud and shrill. Aang’s heart sank. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m not your mom or your dad,” Aang attempted as he lifted the infant out of the cot. “-but they’re busy doing important political stuff right now so you’ve got me instead. I’m not so bad, am I?”

He was moderately offended when Kai’s response was to wail louder.

Sokka was frozen to the spot when Aang swivelled around to him for assistance. His only advice was: “Call them back.”

“We can’t do that, they literally only just left. They’ll think we don’t know what we’re doing.”

“We _don’t_!”

“We have to atleast try.” Aang insisted as he crossed the room. “Here, hold him for a minute. Maybe he’ll like you better because you look more like his mom.”

“No, I don’t.” Sokka said defiantly but he allowed the baby to be passed to him.

For a split second, hope was reignited as Kai peered up at his uncle, his cries restrained in his throat, before he promptly decided that Sokka wasn’t a sufficient substitute either and continued bawling with the same fervour.

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay.” Sokka was clearly panicking as Kai squirmed and squalled. He racked his brains for the last time it was his responsibility to soothe an unhappy baby. The only answer he could think of was never. He’d spent most of his youth - and a fair portion of adulthood, too - running in the opposite direction to scenarios where babies were involved. It was just as well Suki wanted to hold off on starting a family for the time being - he’d be totally useless to her at the moment. “What did Zuko say to do with him if he didn’t go back to sleep with the toy?”

“He said to cuddle him.”

Sokka looked down at his nephew’s little face, contorted with out-and-out rage.

“I get the feeling he’s a little past the point of hugs.”

“Right, okay, uh...” Aang’s brow creased as struggled to recall the next step, his thoughts drowned out by the baby’s racket. “Next step was to let him chew on your fingers.”

Kai was four months old. He didn’t have teeth yet - that was the whole point of him gnawing on someone’s digits in the first place. It was impossible for him to bite, or do any harm whatsoever, but that logic wasn’t enough to completely dispel the nerves. Perhaps that was why Sokka found himself impulsively jamming a finger straight into the baby’s mouth - too fast, too sudden. Sokka could hardly blame the kid for his reaction, even if the aggrieved shriek was so sharp that it made his eardrums crackle. Spirits knew how it must have felt for Toph and her hypersensitive hearing.

Who knew that something so small could fit so much _noise_?

“Maybe not like that. Try a little gentler?” Aang suggested as Sokka tried to contain his nephew’s concerted attempts to wriggle away from him. There was no sarcasm in his friend’s advice - there virtually never was - but it was the well intentions that made Sokka want to hit the Avatar over the head even more. Couldn’t Aang just be a total ass for once and allow Sokka to be a total ass, too, with no guilt?

“It’s not going to work, Aang.” Sokka glared over Kai’s head. “Check his diaper.”

For the first time, Aang wavered.

“He’s crying because _you_ dropped your dumb boomerang on the floor and woke him up,” he argued defensively. “-not because he’s got a dirty diaper.”

“First of all, my boomerang’s not dumb. Second, _you_ were the one that wanted to babysit and this is what Zuko said to do next.” Sokka held out the baby at arms length. “Check it.”

Aang grumbled under his breath about it, fidgeted from foot to foot, but eventually he summoned up the courage to take a peek.

“He’s clean!” he crowed with about as much triumph as if he’d won a marathon.

Sokka, on the other hand, just sighed. He couldn’t say that he had been _hoping_ for a dirty diaper, exactly, but atleast it would have been a cut-and-dry answer with a clear - if unpleasant - solution. Now, his nephew was still crying and he had no idea how to fix it. “So what do we do now? That was the last of their instructions.”

Aang peered at the agitated infant before he suggested brightly: “We could try singing. Babies like lullabies, right? Katara sings to him, I’ve heard her before.”

His boundless optimism was insufferable, but it might have been a good idea - were it not for the fact that Aang was a _terrible_ singer. The guy was the strongest being in the world, could eat tyrants for breakfast, bend entire countries to his will with as little as a look, but somehow he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life. Sokka hoped that atleast some of the Air Nomads Aang had collected so far had tolerable singing voices, otherwise the Air Nation’s songs might well be passed down to Aang’s children, grandchildren and the successive generations in the butchered format only.

“Absolutely not. You’re not Katara.” Sokka said quickly but it was too late.

Aang began a vaguely familiar tune - one that Sokka remembered him saying once was a traveller song that Air Nomads used to sing around campfires. At first, it wasn’t _too_ horrendous as Aang muddled his way through the lower notes, then suddenly he pitched higher and louder into the chorus. Sokka could only liken the sound of Aang’s voice to the screech of a fox antelope and even then, that didn’t quite do it justice. Kai stuttered for a few seconds in sheer horror at the Avatar’s caterwauling before he resumed his crying with even more passion.

“Spirits, save us, stop it, Aang! You’re just making it worse!” Sokka yelled over the awful singing.

“I’m doing more than you!” The Avatar retorted in hurt.

“You know what, sometimes nothing is better than something.”

“Tell that to him! Is _nothing_ going to make him to stop crying?”

“This is your fault!”

“How is it my fault? You started this-”

Finally, a voice snapped from the corner.

“Alright, enough! Just give him to me, you idiots!”

* * *

“Go on. Say it. I’m amazing.”

“You are amazing.” Zuko readily confessed as she waltzed down the hallway a few steps ahead of him, the golden hems of her skirt whirling around her. “I still can’t believe that you achieved unprecedented levels of international cooperation over one dinner by flattering a _bear_.”

“Bosco isn’t just a bear, Zuko. He’s practically a prince.”

She halted in her tracks outside their door when he scoffed in response, waiting for him to catch up to her.

“What? Are you _jealous_ , Fire Lord? Because you didn’t think of it yourself or because you want me to treat _you_ like that?” she teased. “Do you want me to feed you pie and say what a handsome young man you are and give you tummy scratches?” 

Zuko liked this side of his wife - the one that played. He didn’t get to see it that often. Between maintaining the power of her stature as Fire Lady and being married to someone who was usually of a disposition even sterner than hers, there wasn’t a lot of room left for pointless fun, and - despite her dogged insistence otherwise - Katara simply wasn’t wired that way. Neither was he. They couldn’t be. Children master play in the security of a family; Zuko hadn’t had the security, whereas Katara had had the responsibility of providing it, rather than indulging in it. They were learning a little now, though - how could they not when they had a son who found the heights of amusement in shaking a tub of dry pasta or sticking his feet in his mouth.

Katara was a most eager student, and the goblet of fruit wine that she’d allowed herself over dinner - particularly satisfying after the calculations she’d had to work through to confirm it’d be out of her blood by the earliest possible time she might need to nurse again - was certainly helping the learning curve.

“Stop it.” he chuckled, swatting her hand away as she persistently tried to reach up and tickle his chin. “Work-related flirting is a step too far for me.”

She just smirked at him and as she opened their bedroom door, another Katara - one that he hadn’t seen in even longer than Fun Katara - slipped in behind her eyes.

She tilted her head to the side and the look on her face as her eyes brazenly surveyed him up and down a few times was almost wolfish. 

“We’ll see about that.” she said and with a suggestively quirked eyebrow, she disappeared into their room, leaving Zuko struck dumb in the hall.

It had been so long since Katara had viewed him with any measure of physical attraction beyond a hug or a kiss that he wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to behave any more. This didn’t fit into his world where the natural answer upon her telling him that the baby was asleep was to bury his head in his pillow and pray that the next time he woke up would be when the sun was streaming through the crack in the drapes. He was about as clueless now as he was as an eighteen-year old kid - trying to make sense of why his heart pounded and his cheeks burned and his insides turned to jelly when the pretty, terrifying waterbender was around. 

_Is she flirting with me? For real? What does she want from me?_

Ordinarily, he might have simply asked her but if he really was reliving the struggles of his late teens, then he probably wouldn’t be able to speak at all - atleast not without betraying the meltdown within that she’d triggered. Back then - after he’d finally realised he _like_ liked her and he’d immediately lost his ability to string a sentence together - she’d thought his clumsy love language was adorable. 

It didn’t seem like _adorable_ was what she was looking for tonight, though.

In any case, it was always safer to assume nothing when it came to Katara and her inclinations - sexual or otherwise - so he pulled himself together and joined her in their room. That was until he almost walked straight into her, stock still just beyond the threshold.

“What in the spirits’ names happened here?”

Sokka was face down on their bed. He was still wearing his councilman jacket and his legs were dangled over the edge of the frame, his feet coming within centimetres of scraping the floor with each snore in and out. Beside him, Aang was also unceremoniously sprawled out on their mattress, flat on his back, with Momo curled up on his torso.

Kai was nowhere to be seen though - the crib obviously empty - and Zuko was just about ready to start panicking about that fact, before Katara spoke up.

“Zuko,” she breathed, tugging his sleeve. “ _Look_.”

He followed the direction of her stare.

Toph was in the same corner as she was when they’d left. Except this time, she had the baby laying on her chest. They were both fast asleep, Kai’s head resting on the hollow of Toph’s throat just beneath her chin, her hands folded atop each other on his back.

Katara was elated. The beam was covered by a hand over her mouth but he could almost feel the happiness radiating off of her like heat from the sun. She had done her level best to pretend otherwise because she understood - she really did. Not everyone liked kids and that was perfectly okay. Katara had fully expected that Toph would not be the gushing type, but it had upset her when she’d refused to even go _near_ their son - repeatedly brushing them off as she hovered at the fringes of the room. Zuko suspected there was more to her aversion than simple disinterest, but Katara hadn’t been up to much deep-thinking at that point - caught in the throes of postnatal emotion. She just hurt.

This was all Katara had hoped for, so he wasn’t all that surprised when she interrupted him as he leaned down to shake Toph awake. “No, leave them be.”

“I get it. It’s very cute.” he chuckled quietly. “But I think our days of all sleeping in a room together are long over, don’t you?” 

When he turned to her, the other Katara was back, hand held out for him.

“Come on.”

“But, the baby-”

“He’ll be fine with Toph for another hour or so.”

_An_ hour _,_ Zuko thought, swallowing hard as she grabbed hold of his hand. _Agni, what does this woman have planned for me?_

Katara was relentless as she practically dragged him from the room, out into the hall and set off at a furious pace. His heart was thumping so loudly that he could feel his pulse vibrating in his ears but it wasn’t quite excitement he was feeling.

_She wants to have sex with you, not murder you. Get a hold of yourself, Zuko._

Still the apprehension lingered.

She was striding ahead with such confidence that he had to wonder if when she’d gone out for a ‘walk’ earlier, she’d actually been scoping the place out in advance of this opportunity. She must have done because when Katara assuredly barged through the unfamiliar door, it was another bedroom - practically identical to theirs but empty, pristine and clearly out of use.

Zuko barely got time to appreciate her foresight - and that she’d chosen somewhere far beyond Toph’s potential hearing range - before she shoved him roughly against the wall and her lips were on his. She was stripping off his clothes at a feverish pace between and during kisses. Within moments, the heavy outer layer of his dress robes was cast to the floor - no small feat when one considered all the bindings and buttons that held them in place - and her deft fingers were already working dutifully at the collar of his tunic. He was briefly reminded of the two glorious weeks in her second trimester when all Katara had wanted for fourteen days straight was to make love. His Fire Lord productivity had hit an all time low for the duration of that fortnight but after all, Katara had been carrying his _child_ \- who was _he_ , a loving husband and devoted father-to-be, to refuse her? They’d lain together so much that Zuko had only been half-joking when he’d suggested taking up a vitamin regime for himself.

“Wait, Katara-” he protested as she pulled his tunic over his head, leaving him naked from the waist up.

She whined at his reluctance, the coolness of her hands sending tingles down his spine as she gripped his bare shoulders. She balanced on her tip-toes and pushed herself against him tantalisingly, hip-to-hip. “What?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“What do you mean _‘am I sure’_? Of course, I’m sure.”

She looked up into his hesitant eyes and then suddenly, Katara realised what he was getting at. 

Apart from that one very narrow window, their sex life had gone off a cliff during her pregnancy. Katara was either too sick, too tired, too uncomfortable, plain disinterested, or a potent combination of all four. Even if she had been tempted - and she may well have been; in her mind Zuko was more attractive now than he’d ever been - the abruption had put a stop to any potential contact and then the birth itself had extended the ban for a further six-to-eight weeks. After that, they just must have been too busy with the baby and their other responsibilities to even try, she assumed.

A quick calculation in her head said it had been atleast six months since they’d last slept together. Probably more.

“Afraid you’ve forgotten how?” she offered a witty smile but it quickly died when Zuko didn’t react as she’d prompted him to, his face staying severe and removed as he watched her warily. Her mind sprung to another conclusion.

“Is it... is it me?” Her voice wavered as she looked down at herself, palms smoothing over her new shape. “Do you not-”

“No! No, no, no!” He realised what he was responding with just a second too late as her eyes widened with hurt. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant. Yes, I want to have sex with you and no, I’m not holding back because of you. Well, it _is_ because of you but not in _that_ way. Never. I _love_ you, Katara.” He ran his hands through his hair, desperately wishing that he could erase this moment and start over. Katara, on the other hand, wanted to hold onto it. Zuko hardly ever told her he loved her. She didn’t mind because she had never doubted for an instant that he did - every look, gesture, action screamed it - and his hesitancy at using those three particular words made the occasions when he did all the more meaningful, but he didn’t let her savour it for long. “You’re beautiful, and I _want_ you and I’m so lucky, I just-” 

Finally, his stupid brain allowed him to steady himself. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Katara blinked in surprise, a hand sliding down from his shoulder to rest over his heart. He was so hot to the touch that in the few beats of silence that passed between them she could almost imagine the fire pulsing through his veins.

“Then let me-” 

She circled him so their positions were reversed and drove him back, further, further, further until he felt the foot-board of the bed bump against his calves. Katara took advantage of the reflexive yielding of his knees and pushed him down to lie flat on the mattress.

“-be in charge.”

Zuko stopped breathing. 

With a movement as graceful and fluid as her element, she straddled him, her thighs clenched to his hips as she sat atop him. Her hands slid forward as she settled astride, her palms flowing over the muscled ridges and hollows of his abdomen, up over his ribcage. She hesitated at the site of his scar, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of his mark once, twice, before she worked higher up his chest. Zuko shuddered in pleasure when she bowed forward, her hair falling down to one side like a curtain hiding his face, and replaced the touch of her fingers with her mouth. The sensation of her breath electrified his skin with a thousand tiny lightning bolts as she ghosted along his clavicles, up his neck and finally joined to his lips once more.

As Katara set to work on the buckle of his pants, Zuko agreed with her;

Maybe an hour wouldn’t be enough for them after all.

* * *

## 

“Toph,” Katara asked over breakfast the next morning. “How _did_ you get Kai to go back to sleep last night?”

Toph just shrugged as she took a gulp from her teacup. “I gave him a talking to.”

“A _talking to_? He’s four months old. What does that even mean?” Zuko said distractedly as he shrunk back into his seat in an attempt to hide his neck from view. Katara just gave him a self-satisfied smirk when she noticed his strife. He wondered if it was too late for their wardrobe master to attach some buttons to fasten his collar before the summit reconvened.

“She told him to quit his whining and go to sleep if he was tired.” Sokka huffed, clearly still put out that the earthbender had had more success than him.

“And it _worked_?” Zuko straightened up instinctively out of surprise, thinking of all the nights he’d spent in the colic-fuelled early days with Kai simply begging him to go to sleep.

“Yeah. I don’t know why you two bother with all the mushy baby talk. It’s a waste of time. Sometimes, you just gotta tell them straight.” Toph shrugged.

“Pity we didn’t think of that, huh, Aang?” Sokka sulked into his cereal bowl, before he looked up at the lack of response. “Aang?”

The Avatar’s attention was zeroed in on the Fire Lord.

“Zuko, why is your neck all bruised?” Aang asked innocently, head tilted to the side in confusion.

They were all spared from saying a word by Toph who cackled loudly.

“I think you owe me a thank you, there, Sparky.”

Zuko blushed.


	6. month 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this was... a journey to write, even though I did it mostly all in one day (starting 2021 as I mean to go on: lazing in bed aimlessly). This went so much harder than the previous chapter, I have no idea about the turn in pace but we'll roll with it, see how it goes. I've always thought one of the main critiques of ATLA was that it mismashed cultures without much regard, so here I've decided to go along the veins of the Southern Water Tribe being akin to the Inuit and the Fire Nation being Japanese. To disclaim right off the bat, I'm certainly no expert in the traditional stories of either the Inuit or Japanese peoples, and the versions I've used are abbreviated purely to save on the word count, but I found them to be super interesting to read and you can find the sources I used in the end notes.
> 
> Happy New Year and hopefully, since I'm not back at uni until February and I'm currently furloughed from work because of Wales's Tier 4 restriction lockdown, it won't be too long for the next update.
> 
> Enjoy and as always, your kudos and comments are very welcome!

##  **month 5:**

Zuko knew that he’d ascended to a new level of tired when his soles of his boots scuffed the floor and he stumbled forward. Zuko _never_ stumbled - atleast not in the physical sense, though his uncle would probably vouch that the metaphorical one happened quite often. Feet were the foundation of poise, Master Piandao had taught him, and if he didn’t have poise, then he would never master swordsmanship. At that stage in his life, with his firebending lagging so far behind for his age and shown up most particularly by Azula, learning the blade was practically the only shred of hope for his father’s approval he’d had left. He’d thrown himself into it accordingly. The long hours of ladder drills and jump ropes, dawn to dusk, had seen to it that the then-prince had footing more comparable to a mountain goat gorilla than a human.

If only Piandao could see his apprentice now - so lead-footed that he was tripping over the smooth stone tiles that furnished the palace’s floors.

The Fire Lord was beyond the point of caring, though, and as he approached the turn to his corridor, he was reminded of exactly _why_ it was he was so tired.

He could hear Kai’s moans echoing down the hall even at this distance.

When Zuko had woken in the small hours to find their baby son - perfectly fine when they’d laid him down to sleep only a few hours earlier - with a raging temperature and howling in pain, he’d been petrified. The books he’d read in the duration of Katara’s pregnancy had been helpful on the whole, but it had stolen from him the bliss of ignorance. He was painfully aware of just how dangerous flu was for a baby so young, even if they were usually well and strong like Kai. Katara had done a fair job of settling Zuko’s fear with her sangfroid healer-speak - _“He’s only a mild case, Zuko. He’s loud because he doesn’t understand what’s happening to him and that’s the only way he knows to express to us that he’s feeling miserable. It’s probably not as bad as he’s making it sound.”_ \- but then she’d gotten sick, too. Zuko might have expected that development to make a nervous wreck out of him but practically - with Katara only barely well enough to tend to their son, let alone keep up with her work as Fire Lady - he had no time for panic.

Katara had insisted he carry on with his regular duties. Winter always seemed to bring an uptick in issues for them to resolve - food shortages, strained hospitals, trade routes blocked by the weather conditions and the like. The backlog that would accumulate if he stopped to look after them for the duration of flu - atleast a week, if not two - would be near insurmountable and make him highly unpopular. The logic was sound enough, but still he couldn’t help but feel crushingly guilty from the second he left. 

It was at times like these that Zuko kind of wished he’d ran away at the end of the war, somewhere obscure where no one cared about his blood or his opinions. He’d probably have been perfectly happy as a house-husband. Katara though... Katara could never walk away from a fight, certainly not in favour of a domestic existence. She’d have dragged him back into the fray kicking and screaming.

“Anything we can get you, my Lord?” one of the household unit asked him as he approached his chambers. Ikeda, he recognised, when he took a closer look and spotted her unusual heterochromatic eyes staring out at him - it was sometimes difficult to tell them apart with the helms obscuring their faces.

“Unless you’ve got a double of me hidden away in the barracks that can go and settle some land disputes in an hour, then no.” he smiled tiredly at the guardswoman. “Thank you though. We’ll call if we need anything.”

As he pushed open the main door, he was surprised to find his wife curled up on the sofa, rather than in bed.

“Change of scenery.” Katara answered to his question before he could ask it. She attempted a smile but it came out rather sardonic. Not that he could blame her. She hadn’t left their rooms in ages and for his industrious Fire Lady, he could only be grateful that she hadn’t gone completely stir-crazy.

Her eyes fell to the bassinet as they both tuned in to Kai’s grizzling - an almost constant feature of their lives for the last ten days. Her baby was placed well within her grasp but as she reached for him, her body seemed to run out of power. Zuko often thought of Katara as a boundless force of nature, much like the water she wielded, but if anything was going to get her then surely it had to be fighting off an infection and nursing a hungry baby simultaneously. Really, it was remarkable that she even had the strength to sit up straight and not for the first time, Zuko resented that he was helpless to change that by any meaningful measure.

“Can you bring me him?” she asked dejectedly as she flopped back against the couch cushions.

He’d already rushed halfway there by that point. “Sure.”

Kai neglected to pause his grumbling for even a second as Zuko picked him up from the basket. Zuko had been hoping he would make a recovery from the virus as quickly as he’d been felled by it, but the prince was no better now than he was when he’d checked on him at dawn. His skin still radiated unnatural heat through the fabric of his onesie and the slivers of gold visible beneath his heavy lids were overly bright.

Katara laid out their son flat on her lap when he handed him to her, his head lolling on her thigh lethargically as she drew her element from the waterskin at her hip.

Once, in the weeks they’d spent on Ember Island before the comet, Katara had been unable to cure the flu when everyone in the group except she and Zuko had come down with it. At the time, he’d assumed that maybe she was trying to teach Sokka, Aang and Toph a lesson about wrapping up properly after going in the ocean, and Suki was an unfortunate casualty in that mission. After all, Katara had literally resurrected the Avatar - surely fixing up a little flu bug should be easy in comparison? Later in his life though, when he’d been the patient, he’d learned there really was little she could do for viral illnesses. Keeping the worst symptoms at bay and dulling the edge of the ones already manifested was the maximum of her abilities. Still, that was better than nothing and as she guided her healing water up and down Kai’s body with expert precision, his wretched little mewls began to quieten down.

For a moment after she stopped, there was silence, but then Kai’s bottom lip jutted out and the whimpering that made Zuko’s heart splinter in his chest began once more.

“Oh, my dear love. I’m sorry. I know it’s rough.” Katara sighed, lifting her cranky baby up to her chest in a cuddle. “You’ll feel better soon, sweetie, I promise.”

Zuko looked on, sick with the guilt of both his health and powerlessness. “What can I do?”

“Just... can you stay? Please?” Her voice was strangled not just by her raw throat but by the tears brimming in her eyes that Zuko was horrified to behold. “I know I said I wanted you to keep doing your Fire Lord stuff and I know you’re busy but-”

“Always.” He broke her off as he sat at her side and grabbed her hand. “ _Always_.”

“Thank you.” she whispered, her hand coming up to cup his cheek as he leaned forward and nudged his forehead to hers gently. For quite possibly the first time ever, her touch was warmer than his.

“You don’t have to thank for me for doing the bare minimum, Katara. This is _my_ family.” Zuko never got tired of saying that. “This is my _job_.”

“Settling that stupid land dispute is also your job.” she pointed out, but the tears had receded and she was clearly comfortable in the knowledge he was staying.

“It can wait.” he said firmly, rehearsing the line in his head for when he summoned his secretary to shelve everything for today. “What can I do?”

Katara looked down at their son as he laid still in her lap. He looked how she felt inside - too floored by the bug to even move, beyond the intermittent coughs that racked his tiny body. She brushed her thumb over the round of his cheek, the scarlet colour startling against the ashen shade draped over the rest of his face. Of course it was hard for any mother when their baby was sick, but the malaise was so very unlike Kai - their sweet, sunny little boy who never failed to make them smile with his own - that the worry was only compounded.

She sighed. “Try him with some warm sugar solution. That might perk him up a little.”

He was up and off the sofa before she’d even finished talking, heading over to the tea set on the dresser that Uncle Iroh had gifted them as newlyweds. Zuko made a labour of love out of it - using the pitcher of filtered water, carefully measuring out the right amount of sugar and heating the cup in his hands to the optimum temperature. Unfortunately, Kai was decidedly unimpressed when he syringed a few drops of the sugar water onto his tongue, not bothering to spit it out but making his displeasure known by trying his best to squirm out of his father’s arms.

“What kind of kid doesn’t like sugar?” Zuko asked in disbelief as Kai thrashed, only settling when Katara took the syringe away and put it on the chabudai.

“He probably does. He’s just being a grumpy guts about it, though I think he’s earned that right.” Her conclusion was vindicated when she tickled the soft sole of the prince’s foot and he snatched it away with an enraged growl, rather than the usual giggle. “Oh well. Look on the bright side.” she shrugged. “If he doesn’t have a sweet tooth, it’ll make it a lot easier when it comes time to wean him. Anyway, he’ll be okay, so long as he’s-”

“Staying hydrated.” Zuko finished, leaning back on the couch as he lifted Kai up and settled him on his chest. “I’ll keep at him with the water.”

“Did your mom try and force water down your neck when you were sick, too?” Katara chuckled.

“I... I don’t remember.” His brow furrowed. “After she was banished, I could always picture the way she looked, hear the sound of her voice, feel the way she hugged me, but other than that, things got kind of... hazy. Like the more I was trying to cling onto the specific moments, the more they turned to smoke.” 

“You could ask her.” Katara suggested without thinking.

He looked down on her with a raised eyebrow. “I might not like the answer.”

When Zuko had first found his mother again, Katara had expected envy to be chief amongst her feelings. She had fantasised daily about the _what ifs_ \- what if her mother had never died that day, what if she came back somehow - and Zuko’s had come true right before his eyes. But then she’d been the first to witness the sting of the circumstances of Ursa’s finding. Learning that his mother had opted to erase him from her mind had been devastating enough, a wound that even Zuko’s desperation to absolve her had struggled to overcome. He _had_ forgiven her but still the pain lingered, worsened by the subliminal alterations made by his own brain. Even when they were children, Katara had often wondered how Zuko dealt with his trauma so... _neatly_ in their day-to-day lives. The answer was that, in her absence, he’d invested every good memory, every last scrap of sentimentality he had about his childhood, every idea about what a parent should have been like, into Ursa. He’d made her into a paragon - a saintly figure of a mother - and a woman that simply didn’t exist. He was reminded of the falsehoods of that fantasy almost every time he saw her, when he’d share a memory that Ursa would have to gently correct - always for the worse. 

Katara could never envy that. In fact, she pitied it with all of her heart and sometimes, though she always felt guilty for it, she quietly wished to herself that Zuko had never found his lost mother.

It was so much easier to love a ghost than to face up to human realities.

She drew away from her thoughts when he asked: “How about yours?”

“Actually, it was Dad that looked after Sokka and I the most when we were sick. The way he saw it, he had seconds like Bato to cover for him as chief but Mom and Gran Gran were irreplaceable with all the stuff they did for the tribe as the matriarchs; helping preserve the kills from hunts, making warm clothes, fixing up the igloos and stuff.” she explained to him, the familiar nostalgia settling over her like a good blanket. “Mom would be there to baby us in the evenings though. She’d cook us this special puffin seal stew for dinner, tuck us in our sleeping bags and then she’d always tell us about the dawn of humanity”

Zuko’s face was curious, head tilted sideward as he patted Kai’s back soothingly. The steady rhythm was tempering the baby’s distressed whines into a gentler crooning noise, the one he sometimes made before he drifted off to sleep. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me your creation story before.” he said suggestively, a hopeful glint in his eye. Zuko loved stories, she knew.

She nestled into him, pulling a blanket around her body and resting her head on his shoulder as she began the story, the words as branded into her mind as her name.

“A long time ago, earth, hills and stones fell down from the sky. The earth was made and men came forth out of this earth. Little children came from among the willow bushes, covered with leaves, and there they lay and kicked, for they could not even crawl. A man and a woman found each other and grew together. The woman sewed children's clothes and when she wandered, she found the little children. She dressed them in the clothes and brought them home, but then children began to be born. Men grew to be many on the earth but they knew nothing of death and grew to be very old. Neither did they know the sun as they lived in the dark and no day ever dawned. Only inside their houses was there light as they burned water in their lamps, for in those days water would burn. One day, there came a flood from the sea. Many drowned and men grew fewer. Now that men had begun to be fewer, two old women began to speak thus: _‘Better to be without day, if we may also be without death,’_ said the one. _‘No. Let us have both light and death,’_ said the other. When the old woman had spoken, it was as she had wished. Light and death came. When the first man died, others covered up the body with stones but the body came back again, not knowing how to die. An old woman thrust it back, and said _‘We have much to carry, and our sledges are small,’_ for they were about to set out on a hunting journey, and so the dead one was forced to go back to the mound of stones. With light on their earth, men were able to go on journeys and no longer needed to eat off the earth. With death came also the sun, moon and stars, for when men die, they go up into the sky and become brightly shining things there.”

Zuko was dragged out of the reams of the story by the familiarity of the part she ended with. 

When he looked to the stars, he saw only the shapes picked out by the astronomers of old and studied by children of every succeeding generation. When Katara stared up, on the other hand, she saw the spirits of her ancestors looking down on her. Zuko was frequently reminded of his predecessors as Fire Lord but he rarely found any sort of solace in their existence - the opposite in fact. For Katara, the symbols of her heritage burning high above her head were a comfort; that no matter how far from her homeland she wandered, the legacy of her forebears was still with her.

“Light and death.” Zuko murmured after a moment. “Are all the Southern Water Tribe’s folk tales so dark?” 

“Pretty much. They’re supposed to be cautionary life lessons, not meaningless fun. Most of them, atleast. It’s hard living out on the ice. You need all the wisdom you can get.” She reached across Zuko’s chest to sneak a finger into their son’s hand. “The Fire Nation’s creation story is a bit more upbeat, then?”

“You tell me.” he invited. “It was surely in your Fire Lady training.”

“It might have been,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “-but I want you to tell it to me.”

Zuko gave in. He could never say no to her.

“Long ago, all the elements were mixed together with one germ of life and as they were mixed, the heavier part sank and the lighter part rose. A muddy sea that covered the earth was created and from this ocean grew a green shoot. It grew so high it reached the clouds and from there it was transformed into a god. Soon this god grew lonely and it began to birth other gods. The last two gods it made, named Izanagi and Izanami, were the most remarkable of its creations. One day, Izanagi and Izanami looked down on the ocean and wondered what was beneath it. Izanagi thrust his staff into the waters and as he pulled it back up, some clumps of mud fell back into the sea. They began to harden and grow until they became the islands of the Fire Nation. The two gods descended to these islands and began to explore, each going in different directions. They created all kinds of plants and animals, and when they met again they decided to marry and have children to inhabit the land. The first child Izanami bore was a girl named Amaterasu. Amaterasu was so radiant the gods decided she was too beautiful to live on the land, so they put her up in the sky and she became the sun. Their second daughter, Tsukuyomi, became the moon and their third, unruly son, Susanoo, was sentenced to the sea, where he creates the storms.”

“And Amaterasu had a son who became the first ruler of the Fire Nation and all the Fire Lords since then have claimed descent from the sun goddess. Except for you, you boring old cynic.” Katara finished, reaching up to put a hand over his mouth before he could launch into his well-worn argument that some Fire Lord in the past had made that part up for legitimacy. “It’s funny. Mom used to tell me that the Fire Nation royals were descended from the dragons, not the Sun itself.”

“She wasn’t wrong, per se. There is a connection between Amaterasu and the dragons.” he explained. “In some versions of the story of the Heavenly Cave, she appears as a dragon fox and more generally, she’s rumoured to manifest in the world in the form of a dragon.”

“I know you don’t buy into it but-” Katara said as she stared up into Zuko’s celestial eyes then down at her son’s, the latter unfocused by his fluttering eyelids but still burning bright like the Sun the story said had created him. “I could believe he was descended from the gods.”

He had never divulged to Katara the reason why he didn't accept the fable as gospel like everybody else seemed to. He'd seen the dragons with his own eyes more than once. He struggled to believe that creatures so awe-inspiring and pure could have been the origin of his bloodline - not when that descent contained Sozin and Azulon and Ozai and himself. But when he looked down at their child, maybe - just _maybe_ \- he could see the grain of truth in it. Zuko said nothing, too proud to recant his disbelief out loud and knowing that Katara would not appreciate his self-deprecating outlook, but she could see the consensus in his eyes.

“Even if the story isn’t true, the fact that my mother knew it is something in itself, isn’t it?” Katara continued as she reached out to stroke the soft down of the baby’s head. “It’s nice to think that our people have been swapping stories that long. Things can be so divisive that sometimes I forget we’re all just... _people_ \- people with more in common to unite us than differences to divide us. Spirits, my belief in a shared human soul is half the reason why I do what we do.” she laughed but there was a tremble in its progression. “You’d think it would be impossible to forget something that’s almost like your reason for being.”

There it was again - Katara’s undying propensity to hold herself up to standards beyond the capacity of any person’s achieving. 

“Everyone loses sight of the things that motivate them, Katara - _everyone_.”

Nobody knew that better than him. Even exempting the years of the war when his destiny had been lost in translation, he still often found himself forging the path step-by-step as he walked it. He’d made many tangible gains in his ten years as Fire Lord and he prayed at the dawn of every new year for more. The war was over. No parent had to send their child off to fight and receive them back in a body bag - if they were lucky - with a hollow note of thanks and a medal of service. His people, even the ones who resented doing it his way, were thriving more and more each year. And yet still sometimes, it felt like trying to unpick a ball of yarn when ten knots had been tied in every inch he pulled free. He’d undo an old law and in the face of the conservative struggle he faced essentially every time he tried, it would feel like an incredible victory. Sometimes it _was_ an incredible victory, but there would always be another tangle to conquer the next day.

Only now was he beginning to understand that he’d be passing that ball of yarn onto Kai, to all his children, one day - whether they were Fire Lord or not. 

“I forget that the world didn’t begin with Sozin.” he admitted to her because he knew Katara would understand without further explanation. It’d been her battle even before she’d married herself to his side of it, even before they’d had a child to fight the battle for rather than just themselves and the greater good.

“It did begin with Sozin. For us atleast. That fire burnt away pretty much everything that was there before and rebuilt from the ground up long before we were born. It’s all we know.” The steel in her eyes didn’t match to the melancholy in her words. “But if Sozin can remake the world then so can we. A new one begins with us, Zuko. With him.” Her gaze fell to their son, blessedly oblivious to the weight of conversation passing over his head as he fell into innocent sleep. “ _For_ him.” she amended softly.

_Everything I do, I do for you._

He’d lost count of how many times he’d whispered that exact sentence to Kai in the five short months of his life, to Katara in the quiet of the night when he knew she wasn’t listening.

This time, though, he chose to say it aloud.

* * *

Zuko knew what was happening the second he awoke the next day to sunlight burning his eyes, head thumping like a war drum, body hovering between chilled and searing, and muscles aching like he’d been beaten with a wooden bat.

His voice matched his scratchy throat when he called for his wife. “Katara?”

With a quick brush of footsteps, she was there beside him, perching on the edge of their bed. The second she appeared in his line of sight, he could tell she was recovering. Her bronze skin had cooled off, the red flush that had lingered in her cheeks dissipated, and the deep sleep that he assumed had taken all three of them last night had seen off the haggard shadows. The feverish glaze over her eyes had lifted, restoring her tranquil blue irises to their rightful glory. Her pyjamas had been swapped out for one of her favourite day dresses - cobalt silk with patterns of the moon and stars in golden thread adorning the hems. He could smell the lavender scent of her soap on her hair, the upper layer pulled high by her crescent headpiece and gold-beaded loopies, while the rest was allowed to fall past her shoulders in a cascade of brown curls.

Zuko could have quite happily spent a few more seconds staring at her, revelling in the return of her vitality, but the addition of wriggling weight slightly sinking the mattress next to him drew his attention. 

The Fire Lady wasn’t the only one feeling better.

Kai squeaked as Katara set him down in the gap between Zuko’s arm and torso. The boy had more energy in him now than he’d had all week, evidently stronger as he pushed up onto his hands and knees. He made a few attempts to crawl, rocking back and forth with intent, but his unsteady limbs weren’t quite ready to carry him forward just yet. Katara took pity on him and lifted him the rest of the distance. The prince’s little fists curled into Zuko’s shirt as he propped himself up to look into his father’s face. Like Katara, the feverish sheen had gone from his eyes and for the first time in seemingly forever, he was smiling.

“Morning, buddy.” Zuko reciprocated his son’s beam, resting a hand on the baby’s back as he repurposed one of the arms supporting him to try and grab his father’s hair. “You look better. Both of you.”

“Shame that you don’t.” The back of Katara’s hand was mercifully cool as she pressed it to the raging heat of his forehead and he fought the urge to whine when she took it away. “You’re very warm, even for you. Didn’t I tell you’d get sick if you didn’t take a break?”

“You did. Maybe I just wanted my lovely wife to look after me.” he jested as she tsked with dissatisfaction. “What time is it?”

“Nearly noon. That’s how I knew you weren’t well - you never sleep this long, not even on vacation.”

_Noon?_

The page full of engagements inked onto the board hanging over his office desk slammed into his brain like a boulder.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Katara eased him down by the shoulders with authoritative force as he struggled to rise. “You’re not going to work, Zuko, I won’t let you. You’re sick.”

“But I-”

“I’ve already rescheduled everything that I can’t do myself.” Her tone was stern and she pushed him into the mattress once more for good measure. “ _Rest_. It’s no good me trying to heal you when your body is already trying to fix itself. Once you’ve slept a little more, I’ll try and heal you.”

He was going to fight it - he had so much work to do and the content of their conversation yesterday was only driving him harder - but the second his muscles relented the tension, his body turned heavy as concrete.

Maybe Katara was right. A little rest wouldn't kill him.

“Katara?” he rasped again as she went to leave - probably only to fetch water or medicine or something for him, but still he panicked.

She turned to face him once more, baby balanced on her hip and a frown worrying at her brow, but an angelic vision in his eyes.

“Stay?”

She softened.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.sacred-texts.com/nam/inu/eft/eft06.htm
> 
> https://www.cs.williams.edu/~lindsey/myths/myths_17.html


	7. month 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you're all keeping safe wherever you are in the world. Unfortunately here in Wales it doesn't look like things are going to be changing much soon insofar as the pandemic. We're still on an essentially full lockdown and probably will be till atleast the end of February. On the bright side, I've found a lot of time to write and draft so here's your next instalment. This one was quite a change in pace to write, on the back of me having done the previous chapter and my other oneshot 'all is enough', but I had a lot of fun with it and hope you do too.
> 
> Just a forewarning, the next two chapters are going to be kind of interlinked around one plot point. The month 7 chapter is kind of an interlude to the month 8 and at the moment it's somewhat shorter and more isolated in terms of scene change than I've done in prior chapters. Obviously I hope you'll all enjoy it anyway but just thought I'd give a heads up just incase!

##  **month 6:**

Katara often missed her mother. 

She might not have ended Yon Rha that day, out in the pouring rain with Zuko, like she'd fully intended but ultimately, the incident had had the same impact she’d imagined it would. The raw pain that had driven the fire in her teenage self had dulled a little after the war, before finally sliding away into the easier, less destructive, dullness of loss as her life continued on. She still thought of Kya everyday, talked about her almost as frequently, but the memories didn’t hurt her so much like they used to - consoling rather than provoking.

When she’d fallen pregnant, however, and in those early weeks after the baby they’d named for her was born, things had regressed somewhat. In amongst all the joy of her new motherhood, the absence of her own mother had stung like an open wound once more. She could feel the connection between them deepening as her own child had grown within her, when she'd gotten to hold her son in her arms. Katara had always known why her mother did what she did but she understood it so much more viscerally now - she'd felt it stir within her every time her baby kicked, every time she saw him smile or laugh. She wanted to ask Kya what her own pregnancies had been like, if she felt the same things as Katara did, what she and Sokka had been like as babies in her eyes. Her dad could tell her some things, her mother-in-law could offer her experiences, but it wasn’t quite the same. She wanted her _mom_. She wanted her mom to tell her if she was doing it _right_ , but her heart reached out to nothing, finding only the empty space she’d left behind so many years ago.

It had been so incredibly difficult, especially since there was really nobody she knew that could help her with it. Zuko tried his best to comfort her, but through no fault of his own he always fell too short. He was unable to truly empathise with that kind of grief and the struggle with his own fears had hindered his attempts further. He might not have his biological father to guide him, but he did have Iroh - and Ikem, to an extent - and that was as good as.

From her own family, Katara had only Gran Gran to fill her mother’s shoes and she was on the other side of the world.

She tried - they all tried - but inevitably some moments that other new mothers got to experience were lost. 

If there was one thing she hadn’t missed out on, though, it was advice. Katara had been given that in abundance, from all sorts of sources ranging from friends and family, to staff and nobility, to strangers she met on her public visits as Fire Lady. Some of it was helpful - _trust your instincts, accept help from others, keep a routine, don’t compare yourself to any other parent, take breaks on your own_. Some of it not so much - _holding the baby too much will spoil them, don’t let them get too attached, rub the gums with whiskey during teething, sometimes you just have to let them cry it out alone_. There had been one thing that had cropped up in virtually every conversation she’d had.

_Embrace every second of it, because it will go so very fast._

Katara had done her best to honour that suggestion, catching and savouring every little moment with her son that she could, but still the passage of time hit her hard and abrupt. 

In the months before, changes in Kai had come in dribs and drabs. All the things Kai learned were significant, but they happened slowly enough that both she and Zuko had time to process the latest development before the next one came along. At the mark when Kai had turned six months old, however, the rug of steadiness was snatched out from underneath them. Overnight, it seemed, their son had advanced in a leap. All of sudden, he could sit up on his own and put his feet under him when he stood, holding their fingers above his head for support. His hands were more smoothly coordinated and he could successfully grab moving objects out of the air. His interest in his more inert toys like stuffed animals had waned in favour of any object that he could provoke a reaction from with pushing, pulling, twisting and shaking. He had a concept of object permanence, searching for things when he dropped them and giggling in anticipation when they hid their faces behind their hands. The most startling thing Katara found, though, was how much more sociable Kai had become. He remembered people he’d seen before and was far more interested by them, obsessed with touching faces and trying to imitate the looks pulled, while he babbled away enthusiastically. Expressions weren’t the only thing that fascinated the young prince; whether it was as exciting as his parents’ bending movements or gestures as simple as folding clothes, Kai wanted to copy. 

Suddenly, they had a real little person on their hands.

A real little person who was simultaneously going through a phase of complete and utter infatuation with his father. 

Zuko was thoroughly enjoying sucking up all the extra affection that was usually reserved for Katara. His councillors, on the other hand, were somewhat less thrilled. Even their relief that the Fire Lord had produced a potential successor couldn’t sway them from the fact that Zuko’s work ethic had been significantly dampened of late. Specifically by the inquisitive baby stealing his attention, which was exactly what was happening now.

Zuko had had every intention of getting some work done when he’d sat down at the desk half an hour ago, but he was yet to learn how to say no to those big golden eyes staring up at him. 

It really did look like Katara was going to be the pillar of authority in this household. She had yet to intervene in this predicament, though. Kai was still happily amusing himself perched on his father’s knee - or rather, sussing out what Zuko was doing - while the Fire Lord’s letter to one of his top generals lay abandoned to the side, only about a third of the parchment filled at best.

“Zuko,” Katara asked suddenly as she watched them from her seat on the edge of the bed. “Where did our baby go?”

“No idea, but I would like to know where the nice, quiet one went and where this little nuisance came from. Maybe we should send him back to the baby factory. Or foster him out. What do you think, buddy?” Kai chortled as Zuko tickled the weak spot beneath his chin. “Wanna go and live with your Uncle Sokka?”

A soft smile warmed her as she watched Kai squirm in his father’s lap. “I don’t think there’s anybody in the world that deserves that punishment. Believe me, I know - I lived with Sokka full-time for fourteen years.”

Zuko considered that with a faint grimace. “Yeah, maybe that was a bit harsh. He sleeps through the night now. I guess we can keep him around a little longer.”

Kai took advantage of his father’s focus being on Katara rather than him to lean forward, his hands braced on the edge of the desk. His amber eyes scanned the contents of the table for mischief, his search passing over the boring old folders and unlit candles until he noticed the most obvious toy right in front him. He reached out and grabbed Zuko’s calligraphy brush from where it rested on the ink pallet. Tightening his grip on the handle with the brush end pointing to the ceiling, Kai tugged the fabric of Zuko’s sleeve with his empty hand to draw his attention to what he’d done.

Katara sprung to her feet instantly. “Zuko, he’s not strong enough to do-”

He was already a step ahead of her, stabilising the baby’s wrist between his thumb and index finger.

“You want to write like Daddy, huh?” He guided his hand over to the stack of parchment. “Writing goes on paper.”

Kai blinked up at Zuko confusedly for a second, his brow furrowed. He probably hadn’t expected to get this far - most of his exploratory endeavours ended with his boring old parents removing whatever unsuitable object he'd picked up - but after a few moment’s consideration, he seized the opportunity. He jerked the brush head down to the parchment and dragged it back and forth in rough strokes with a laugh. It didn’t take long, however, before the brush was dry of ink and the fun was over. He immediately dropped the brush down unceremoniously. His curious little mind had already moved onto the next thing - a leather-bound book on Fire Nation military law, apparently.

“Thanks, buddy.” Zuko chuckled as he lifted up the remnants of his letter than Kai had selected as a canvas for his work. “I’m sure General Arima will really love your advice.”

Katara sighed as she saw the lines of Zuko’s words smeared out.

“It’s alright.” He tapped his finger to his temple as he laid the paper back down. “It’s all up in here. My handwriting was probably a little sloppy anyway.”

“No, it’s not alright. You’re letting him distract you whenever he wants to and you’re falling behind with your work.” She crossed the room and scooped Kai out of Zuko’s lap without any further discussion. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go and play in the garden for a bit and let Daddy finish up his work. You can see him again at dinner.”

Kai started fighting her before she’d even brought him to her body, immediately arching his back and thrashing in her arms as he reached out for Zuko.

“What’s _wrong_ with you, Kai?” Katara asked in disbelief as the mama’s boy that usually clung to _her_ with a passion began to whine threateningly, his face turning an ominous shade of scarlet. “Why do you like Daddy so much all of a sudden, huh?” She side-eyed her husband with a wry smirk. “He’s really not that interesting.”

“ _Hey_.” Zuko pouted, crossing his arms indignantly. “I’m _very_ interesting.”

With her time to remedy the situation by returning the baby to Zuko spent, Kai’s whine transitioned to a more assertive shriek of fury.

“I said _no_. Daddy’s busy.” Katara told her son sternly as she turned her back, but it was no use; Kai simply hoisted himself higher on her body and reached his arms over her shoulder, fists grabbing towards Zuko demonstratively as he continued to screech.

“It really is alright, Katara.” Zuko winced at the noise, his ears not used to such a racket from their usually placid son. “He can sit with me for a bit longer.”

“What does that teach him? That if we say no to him, all he has to do is throw a big hissy fit and we’ll give him what he wants. I’m sure that’ll be a lot of fun when he’s older and knows that he’s a prince - the heir to the throne maybe.” She countered sharply. Zuko dipped his head meekly like a scolded child himself. “It’s not happening. I will not have my son turn out a spoiled little brat. I said we were leaving you alone to work and going to the gardens, so that’s what we’re doing. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, she was gone, the door banging shut in her wake with finality.

He wouldn’t have believed it possible before - Katara had always been by far the kindest person he knew - but somehow motherhood had kindled an even softer side in Katara. In the near constant company of her baby, that was all that tended to show of her over the last half a year.

He sometimes forgot about the iron underneath.

He also forgot how _young_ Katara was still - how young they both were. Twenty-five didn’t seem nearly long enough to encapsulate her life, to explain her hardened wisdom, and yet that would be the age his wife turned next week. 

Royal birthdays, like essentially all other occasions of note, were always handled with spectacle in the Fire Nation. In spite of the sceptical reception she’d received when they’d first began their relationship, Katara was no exception to the rule once they had married. The public honoured the Fire Lady’s birthday with as much enthusiasm as they did his. For he and Katara personally, the day was typically marked with some sort of formal social function - a gala or a ball, with friends and family and a few hundred guests of note - while the country beyond the palace used the event as an excuse for street parties, some of the revelries lasting as long as a few days.

Perhaps to compensate for the grandiosity of the public celebrations, Katara always insisted that he make the least possible fuss about her birthday in private. Zuko honoured that request for the most part, but he did ensure that she took the day off to enjoy herself. He also insisted on a present, but that endeavour was always a challenge.

What to get for a woman who could already have everything she wanted but still insisted on living modestly? 

In the formative years of their relationship, he’d gifted her with traditional waterbending scrolls - hunting them down in far flung markets, libraries, the homes of ex-raiders and even a few buried deep in the palace's own archives - but both her Southern and Northern series had been completed a while back. After that, he’d turned to jewellery but - limited only to bracelets and earrings, since she never removed her mother’s necklace or the engagement and wedding rings on her finger - that option was fast becoming exhausted, too. 

It was her first birthday since she’d become a mother. Zuko wanted it to be special for her. He’d been waiting desperately for creative inspiration to come, but alas he’d had no genius ideas and the date was only seven days away.

Just as he was considering going to beg his uncle for advice, his eyes fell back to the clumsy brush strokes covering his letter. 

The inspiration he’d been waiting for finally struck.

* * *

Zuko had anticipated that separating Kai from Katara without arousing suspicion would be the hardest part of his plan. Katara had taken on her Fire Lady duties again one by one until last month she’d built herself up to resuming them all. Returning to the demands of her title had been easy for her - he knew that as much as she’d loved being solely a mother, she’d missed her work greatly - but deciding how she wanted to manage them along with their son had been less so. Katara was trying hard to adjust herself to being without the baby, attempting to wean herself to the experience by leaving him in the care of Zuko or Yumi for gradually lengthening periods, but he knew she struggled with the anxiety of it. The tether between mother and son was _strong_. At the moment, she still mostly kept Kai at her side while she worked - whether that be in the privacy of her office or out on display during council sessions and public visits. 

Everyone had been taken aback to see the Fire Lady going about her affairs with her baby in a wrap at her chest, rather than in the care of nursery staff, and word of her tendencies had spread like wildfire. The majority of the population loved her for it but predictably many of the elites in the instruments of state were less enthusiastic. A few of the more staunch traditionalists had gone so far as to come to Zuko with their complaints, the grumblings all along the lines of _improper_ and _unprofessional_ but - with a sharp warning that had roughly translated to _‘you can shove your opinions straight up your ass next time’_ but in prettier words - the novelty had soon worn off. 

His initial bids to make off with Kai predictably fell flat - the first attempt ending when he’d arrived at her office to find the baby asleep and the second timed too close to his next feeding for Katara to agree - but the third try unfolded in the opportune moment. 

He couldn’t believe his luck when she sat down for lunch in their solar, venting to him about how far behind she was with her latest philanthropic project - setting up learning facilities across the country to help war veterans retrain to their new ambitions, whether that be in practical handiwork disciplines like carpentry and plumbing, arts, or academic subjects.

(Every day he thinks he could never love Katara more than he already does - for her passion and dedication, for her kind and genuine heart - but every day she proves him so very wrong.)

“You know that empty barrack block in the north of the city?” He did, but she didn’t wait for him to assent before she continued. “We want to use that as the first trial location. We’re supposed to be meeting with Finance Minister Iwai tomorrow to ask for the funding to regeneration and start-up funding, but it'll be a miracle if he says yes. It’s for social welfare, therefore it’s more costly than other state expenses, so he’s already gonna be on his guard with me. If I don’t get this budget locked down, then he’ll rip me to shreds for sure.” she sighed, digging through her ramen bowl to fish out the eggs first like she always did, chin propped up on her hand. “I feel like I’ve been totting up numbers for about half a century, but it’s still not a hundred percent done.”

“If it’s that close, I can watch Kai while you finish up with your team.” he offered in what he hoped was a subtle tone. Katara was always extra sensitive to abnormality around her birthday, eager to scavenge clues about her gift.

Sure enough, she eyed him doubtfully from across the table. “You’re not busy?”

“No.” Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a lie. Of course, he hadn’t foreseen this golden opportunity presenting itself and amended his schedule accordingly, but he was sure he could get the job done and still be in time for the consultation with his advisers.

A raised eyebrow joined her sceptical look. “You certain about that?”

“Even if I was busy, which I’m _not_ -” he emphasised pointedly as he handed Kai a final wedge of sun pear, the previous one reduced to little more than residual mush and drool slathered on his hands. Kai’s first explorations into solid food had been limited so far, only a few pieces of fruit here and there, but it’d been... _messy_ , to say the least. “He’s as much my responsibility as he is yours. I just want to help a little more.”

“It’s not because I don’t trust you.” she said, alarmed at the implication. “You know that I do, more than anyone. It’s just that-”

“It’s more practical for you to have him because you’re breastfeeding every few hours still and you like keeping him close, I get it.” He stepped in to reassure her, reaching for her across the table. “I’m not trying to push you or-”

“No, I know, but you’re right. I _have_ been hogging him a little too much. He’s your kid, too.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Take him.”

Zuko hesitated as he rose from his seat. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” she smiled with a handful more confidence than before, releasing his hand so she could give Kai’s own little palms a wipe now that he’d discarded the half-chewed pear for good. “It’s important that you two have some time together on your own to bond, and I’m sure he’ll have more fun with you than sitting and watching me crunch numbers. Bring him back by three?”

“Got it.” He pressed a kiss to Katara’s temple as he leaned down to lift Kai from the high chair. “We’ll see you later.”

When he threw one last check over his shoulder and found Katara back to eating her ramen bowl with as much nonchalance as she could manage, he stepped out of the solar. His luck continued as miraculously no one way-laid him on the trip back to their suite, the staff settling only for brief smiles at the prince as they passed by. Zuko congratulated himself on his forward-planning as he pulled out the paint kit from where he’d hidden it beneath the bed a few days ago in advance of this very opportunity.

“It’s your mommy’s birthday next week,” he told Kai as he knelt down opposite him on the rug, laying out his implements in front of him. “-and you’re gonna help me make something nice for her.”

The baby watched with vague intrigue as Zuko poured out a pool of blue and then white paint onto a palette, swirling them together slightly with the tip of a brush to create a marbled texture. Once he was satisfied with the paints, he laid out a scroll of blank parchment in front of the prince and rolled the calligraphy brush - the very same one he’d taken an interest in a few days back - across the floor to him.

“I think Mommy would _really_ like it if you painted a nice picture for her.” Zuko coaxed. “What’d you say, buddy?”

Kai stared at the brush as it came to a stop near his foot and then back up at Zuko, vivid golden eyes blinking at him impassively.

“Like you did on my letter to General Arima. Remember? You liked doing that, right?” Zuko picked up the brush and put it in the baby’s hand to prompt him, reaching over to stabilise his son’s weak wrist between his fingers like before. “Could you do it again?”

Still, Kai was motionless, eyes flickering between the point of the brush and the paint in seeming bewilderment. Zuko couldn’t help but lament the particular irony of it - that his son who had spent the better part of the prior fortnight causing havoc by putting his hands here, there and everywhere they shouldn’t be, was somehow now disinterested when he was being _invited_ to make a mess.

“Don’t be shy. I’m sure whatever you put on there it’ll be ten times better than what your Uncle Sokka could do.” Zuko chuckled to himself.

The young prince remained unmoved, opening his fist to let the brush fall to the floor with a clatter and trying to grab at his father’s fingers instead.

“Alright, the brush is boring now. I get it. Been there and done that. Maybe we could try without the brush. I think most kids learn to paint with their hands first anyway.” Zuko reasoned, releasing Kai’s wrist and edging the palette forward so it was within his arm’s reach. The accessibility of the paints seemed to stir his curiosity and after Zuko gave a demonstration, short of actually touching the paint himself, Kai leaned forward and submerged his hands into the colours.

“That’s it. Good boy.” Zuko encouraged as Kai sat back up and admired the paint covering his palms.

He foresaw what was about to happen a split second too late.

Kai smeared his palms on his white linen tunic, erupting into a self-satisfied laugh as he looked down at himself.

“No, Kaito! No, no, no, no, no!” 

Zuko lunged forward to try and grab his wrists but sheer excitement had the prince moving faster, pulling his hands up along his face and then burying into his hair, leaving blue and white splotches all over him. Zuko jumped to his feet and snatched up the baby, but not before he managed to dip his hands in again for a fresh coat. Kai immediately smacked his palms to his father’s cheeks with a delighted shriek, rubbing two indigo circles onto them before tending to the rest of his face. His little fingers dragged strokes down from his forehead, over his eyebrows and straight down over his eyelids, before eventually grabbing at a portion of his hair, coating the strands in blue highlights. Zuko was helpless, the position he was holding the baby in too awkward to immobilise Kai’s wandering hands without risking dropping him, so he submitted with a sigh.

Kai’s chortling didn’t let up even when he’d exhausted all the available paint on his hands.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Zuko couldn’t hold back his smile any longer as Kai braced his hands on his shoulders and leaned back in his arms to admire his human canvas, giggles still tumbling out of his mouth at the sight. Zuko bowed forward and nuzzled his nose, the only part of the boy’s face not covered in paint, eliciting a fresh round of laughs.

“You know, somehow, I don’t think your mom would much appreciate it if I handed you back looking like I’d dropped you into a paint can.” Zuko shifted his son into one arm and ran his fingers through his hair, a glossy shade of black except for the now conspicuous blue and white roots framing his face. “How about we dump you in the bath real quick before she finds out? I promise I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Zuko took the string of babbling he received in response as assent to the cover-up.

Kai had always been kind of mesmerised by the water - Katara didn’t put much stock into it, she argued a lot of babies liked water which he supposed was true enough, but he still had a sneaking wonder if Kai was more like his mother than he outwardly appeared - so bath time went off without a hitch, right up until his ears picked up the sound of knuckles rapping against the bedroom door.

“Fire Lord Zuko?”

“What is it?” he called loudly over Kai’s enthusiastic splashing.

“Sorry to interrupt, my Lord, but the meeting with your advisers is supposed to start in five minutes.” It was the voice of his secretary, he recognised almost immediately. “Are you going to attend or should I reschedule it for a later date?”

“ _Shit._ ” Zuko swore passionately before casting an apologetic eye over his son, even though all his attention was focused on his rubber octopus toy. “I, uh-”

He almost yelled out to Daiju to take the reschedule option for sheer convenience, but then he remembered that he’d already done that once before. He’d cancelled their session last week to catch up with an agriculture report, reading that he hadn’t done because he’d blown half of that afternoon playing around in the gardens with Kai. One push back was all he was going to get away with without making a serious misstep in etiquette, and his advisers would be even less happy when they realised his slacking was down to an infant. 

He reluctantly choked back his beg for freedom and replaced it with: “Tell them I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kai bleated in protest as Zuko hauled him out of the tub without warning and speedily dried him off with the nearest towel to hand.

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry about the hurry, but can you not make a fuss about it, please?” Zuko pleaded as he manoeuvred the baby’s arms into the sleeves of a clean tunic, his skin still warm and soft from the bath water. “My advisers are already gonna hate me enough for being late. The last thing I need is you screaming your head off, too.”

Luckily, Kai graciously decided that there wasn’t going to be a tantrum on the agenda today, that outcome helped along when Zuko presented him with his stacking cups - his latest favourite toy. 

Zuko had anticipated that his consultants weren’t going to be exactly thrilled by Kai’s presence in the chamber. None of them had been among the ones who’d directly complained to him about Katara’s mothering techniques - they all knew him on a personal enough basis to realise it wouldn’t be at all well received, let alone acted upon - but it was their job to keep him toeing the lines of tradition as much as he would tolerate. The horrified looks on all of their faces when he sat in his chair at the top of the table were a little over-excessive though, and as he stared around at them, exasperation unfurled in his gut.

“Yes, your Fire Lady is busy right now and no,” Zuko snapped before anybody uttered a word. “-he doesn’t have a nursemaid because he’s _our_ son and it’s _our_ job to raise him - not some stranger - so I’m parenting today. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

The gathered counsel exchanged wary eyes with one another, before finally one of the elder women spoke up.

“Uh, no, my Lord. It’s not that.” Lady Miyahara told him carefully. “It’s just-, well... you’ve got a little something on your...”

Zuko followed the noblewoman’s gesture and touched his cheekbone.

His heart plummeted down from his chest and settled in the pit of his stomach like a boulder when his fingers came away with flecks of blue.

_A little something_ was polite, Zuko thought numbly as he stared at the damning flakes of dried paint. _A lot of something_ was probably far more accurate.

Years ago, when he’d first admitted the nature of his new relationship with the Southern Water Tribe’s ambassador to the very people sat before him now, several of them had told him plainly that his love for Katara would be the ruin of him, of his reputation as Fire Lord. As his cheeks turned searing hot and he wished with every shred of his being for the obliviousness of the child that sat on his lap, caring about nothing other than his rainbow-coloured cups, he doubted they’d foreseen it coming about this way.

Zuko sighed, as he set to thinking about how he was going to get himself out of this one.

The things he did for love.


	8. month 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Like I said before, this one is kinda an intro to the plot thread of the next chapter so it's quite an isolated piece and dialogue-heavy. I hope you enjoy it anyway. The next chapter is going to be a bit longer and I have some prep to do for Model NATO coming up this week, but with any luck it won't take long since I'm still on lockdown.

##  **month 7:**

Katara let out a satisfied sigh as she felt the cool sea breeze brush over her skin lightly. 

She’d been sceptical when the idea of a short break to Ember Island had been brought up, not only because Zuko was the one doing the suggesting - her husband usually had to be _dragged_ on vacations - but also because it was the wrong time of year. In the nine years of their relationship, five of marriage, they had only ever visited the family beach house during the summer, when the sun burned hottest in the sky and the waves were the only chance at release from its glare. Mid-spring on Ember Island was a whole different ball game to what she was used to, but Katara couldn’t say she was averse to the change. The island was almost in a state of dormancy, stripped back to only permanent residents, and though nobody ever approached them when they were here - vacations, it appeared, were sacred even in the Fire Lord’s case - it was nice to not have the feel of curious eyes on them. The weather was still warm - it was _always_ warm in the Fire Nation, or atleast it was by Katara’s judgement - but the absence of stifling heat was also a welcome change. The uncomfortable nights where she and Zuko would sleep in the bare minimum with no blankets, lying atop the sheets with a valley of mattress between them and still sweating like they were in a sauna, were never a particular highlight.

Kai seemed to be enjoying their jaunt, too, though she assumed the difference had more to do with his age than the environment. They’d brought him to the island once before to celebrate Christmas, but he’d been a lot smaller then - barely three months old - and the change of scenery had unsettled him greatly. Now that he was a little older, he appreciated the sea and sand more, and his change of heart surely had something to do with the ensemble of aunts, uncles and grandparents being around to lavish affection on him every waking moment.

Katara whipped her head around at the sound of a foot creaking the floorboards but it was only Zuko. A small frown worried at his brow as he searched around confusedly before he found her sat on the threshold of the opened front doors.

His face lit up when he spotted her. “Hey, I was wondering where you were.” 

He crossed the foyer and trotted down the steps to join them with feather-light steps. 

Zuko glanced up at the full moon hanging over the horizon, his face bathed in its glow. “Do you want me to put Kai to bed so you can go out and uh...” He fumbled for the right word. “... _play_?”

She looked out in the same direction as he did. She considered the ocean just a few hundred metres down the path and Yue’s energy thrumming in her veins that nagged her to get out and tame it, but reason ruled the day. “No, not yet. It’ll be time for his dream feed soon and I haven’t expressed any milk for you to feed him instead.” Her eyes flitted away from the scenery and up to the molten irises gazing down on her with a teasing smile. “ _Playtime_ can wait.”

Zuko just rolled his eyes as he knelt down at her side. “Maybe it’s for the best. He does look very comfortable there.”

Kai was indeed looking far too cosy in his mother’s arms to be disturbed unnecessarily. He was swaddled up tight in a blue fur-lined blanket that, if Zuko remembered correctly, was a gift sent by Chief Arnook and his wife on behalf of the Northern Water Tribe. The baby was fast asleep now, his enviably long eyelashes casting tiny shadows down his cheeks in the firelight, but he hadn’t been for very long, judging by how his hands and face were still reddened from the bath water and his hair fluffed like a dandelion by towel drying. It was just as well that Zuko had decided not to bother him; Katara would have been reluctant to surrender him in any case - she was catching up on her Mom time since Kai had spent most of the day being passed around the gathered family.

The detachment of the prince from his parents had made it easy for Sokka and Suki to pull them aside earlier to deliver their news.

“You’re gonna be a cousin soon, sweetie.” Katara whispered to him as she traced the round of his cheek with her thumb ever so lightly.

“And you’re going to be an aunt.” Zuko reminded, remembering how ecstatic she’d been when her sister-in-law had informed her she was expecting.

“I am.” Katara beamed. She was almost as happy about the news of her brother’s impending parenthood as she’d been about her own. “You didn’t seem all that surprised earlier, when they told us about the pregnancy.” she probed Zuko as he settled against the opposite beam of the door frame, leaving a bend in his knees to allow room for both of their legs to fit in the entrance way.

“I wasn’t, really. I had some suspicions already.” he answered, delving in a little further when he was met with his wife’s questioning look. “Sokka’s been acting weird since we got here - weirder than usual, that is. He’s been following Suki around literally everywhere she goes, staying right at her side like he’s constantly ready to throw himself in front of her at a moment’s notice. There’s only one feeling in the world that drives behaviour like that.” Zuko chuckled to himself as his attention fell to their son in her arms. “I’ve been there. I knew what I was seeing.”

Katara considered that maybe she should have, too, but then in her own pregnancy, she’d put a stop to Zuko’s hovering rather swiftly. For someone that doted on others so much, it was a tad ironic that she absolutely detested receiving it - more so that she’d married somebody whose anxieties most often translated into fretting over his loved ones.

Suki was more patient than her and Sokka wasn’t as prone to fussing as Zuko, Katara considered. Perhaps she was enjoying the attention.

A silence fell between them as Katara replayed her brother’s behaviour over the past three days, looking for the clues she’d apparently missed. Zuko, on the other hand, used the quiet to admire the image before him. 

Back in the early days of he and her, when Katara had first joined him in the Fire Nation to serve as a diplomat for her tribe, his advisers and councillors had often spat at him that he lionised her, treated her like some sort of saint. He’d assumed they were trying to embarrass him - because in their minds, the Fire Lord should perceive himself as second to none - but if that was their intention, it’d fallen flat every time.

He _did_ admire Katara, more than anybody else in the world, and he had never been - would never _be_ \- shy about saying as much. 

Even when they’d stood on opposite sides of the conflict, when he’d confronted her at the Spirit Oasis all those years ago, he couldn’t help but think highly of how she’d stood firm to face him. He’d never have admitted to it then, but he’d been awed by her abilities - her potential mostly untapped but still strong enough to subdue him. That moment had been quickly overshadowed by others - when he’d seen how she could bring a man to his knees with little more than a twitch of fingers, how she could force wild forces like the rain and sea to do her bidding - but the strength of her heart, rather than her chi, soon became forefront in his mind. It had started when she’d offered to heal him of his scar, a moment that had always left him a little stumped until she’d come to the Fire Nation. There, when she’d stood up in front of his Council for the first time to demand they take care of their people - _his_ people, the very same ones that had devastated her homeland and had every right to mistrust, if not hate - with respect, that was when he realised the truest depth of her power.

He looked at Katara now, the light of the moon shrouding her in white, biting the corner of her lip the way she always did when she was thinking hard, and the words tumbled out of his mouth before he got the chance to think them through. 

“I have never wanted _anything_ more than I wanted you.”

She blinked at the sudden, passionate sentiment before her lips quirked up into a smirk. “I vaguely remember something about you wanting honour quite badly?”

“Quite badly.” he agreed with her, his cheeks heating slightly as the escapades of his youth flashed through his mind. “Still not as much as you, though.”

She prodded the sole of his boot with her own slippered foot playfully. “I’m _honoured_ to hear that _._ ”

“Stop it.” He pushed back.

Katara indulged in a similar exercise as her husband just had, studying him closely as he laughed. There was barely a trace of that angry sixteen-year old to be found in the man that sat before her now - characteristically and physically. The only thing that had not changed about Zuko as he’d aged so far was his mark. The red, furrowed skin had faded very little since she’d first touched it, the tissue still rigid enough that his eye was held in its slitted lens.

“Would you ever want me to heal your scar? If I could?”

When he flinched back, she considered that maybe she should have thought it through a bit more before asking something so deeply personal, but it was too late to retract. She was expecting his answer to take some time coming. It did when he’d been asked this question once before, on a ceremonial state visit to Agna Qel’a not long after they’d married. It had taken him a few days to refuse Chief Arnook’s offer of the water and her offer to use it on him. This time, though, the response came almost immediately.

“No. I’m not ashamed of it anymore.” Zuko said firmly and when his eyes came up to meet hers, they were similarly stern. “It’s a part of me. It reminds me of how far I’ve come and if I didn’t have it, then I’d look just like _him_.”

To her, it was a startling admission. Zuko’s face was just... Zuko’s face - it didn’t remind her of anybody except him - but she supposed he did have a point. Zuko did look a lot like Ozai. As she scrutinised his face, finding only similarities in the angular features, lean stature, straight black hair and golden eyes, she realised it really was only the blemish that set them apart by any major measure.

“You know, sometimes,” Zuko began, apropos to the man he’d just mentioned. His eyes wandered around the entrance hall and caught on the portrait on the wall. Zuko had gutted and redecorated the old house long before their marriage, even going so far as to knock down walls and change the layout, but there were still some similarities. The family portrait still hung in the same place. It was a charcoal drawing of the three of them now, done only a few months ago by the palace’s artist, but she knew he was picturing its predecessor. Zuko hadn’t had the heart to throw out the cast of his hand either, the mould still resting on the table. It broke Katara’s heart to look at it, to think of what the innocent little baby that had left that mark - no older then than her own son was now - had yet to come to him. “I still think about burning this place to the ground.”

“I know you do. I can see it in your eyes sometimes. It’s like this shadow comes down.” Katara said softly, wishing she could hold his hand. “Why not just do it? We could always start over somewhere else. We could build a new home the way we want it, with enough space that everyone can have their own rooms and with no ghosts lurking in the walls. It wouldn’t even have to be here on the island if you didn’t want. There’s plenty of nice getaway spots on the mainland.”

Zuko tipped his head back against the door-frame. “I’d feel like a coward if I did.”

“Choosing to not subject yourself to the same pattern of trauma over and over again isn’t cowardice, Zuko.” she insisted. “It’s self-preservation. You hear me?”

“I know, I’m not trying to be a martyr or anything.” he reassured her. “I guess I just feel some kind of... _duty_ to this place - to replace all the bad stuff with the good. Like I look out there now,” He gestured to the path leading from the front steps to the beach. “-and I think about training Aang to firebend, of us all hugging. As the years pass, other things will happen here that’ll outweigh the old stuff. Never completely, but mostly.” The optimism held firm in his voice as he stared over at Kai like he was his hope of heaven. “Besides, it doesn’t feel so much like mine to tear down anymore. It belongs to this family. Kai might bring his own children here one day then they might bring theirs and so on and so forth - generation after generation treading the same paths, making a shared history. It’s not for me to destroy that because of my own issues.”

“I get that.” Katara conceded with a smile. “Just to be clear, though, I’d still help you burn it down if you asked.”

He laughed. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Another spell of quiet fell between them, initially prompted by the stirring of the baby - murmuring and shifting in her arms - but it stayed in place even after he dropped back off to deep sleep. Katara could feel something intangible hanging in the air between them, like catching the scent of an oncoming storm. Zuko was evidently trying to enjoy the moment - to make one of those good memories that he was talking about only a second ago - but she could see a worry pulling at his face insistently.

“What is it, Zuko?” she interrupted finally after her patience wore thin. “I can tell you’ve got something to say to me, so just say it.”

He opened his mouth to talk but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned forward and pulled a letter from the inside of his robes. She raised her eyebrow. “I thought Uncle Iroh said no working while we were on vacation.”

“Couldn’t exactly get out of this one, I’m afraid.”

He tilted up the bottom of the scroll so she could see the handle mark. All of the Zuko’s mail was externally coded by his secretary with a wax coat on each end of the wooden handle. The colour of the wax symbolised the rough content of the letter and therefore determined its place in the order of importance when Zuko sat at his desk to handle correspondence - navy blue meaning international relations, for instance.

This one was marked black. Black meaning crisis. 

Her stomach plummeted. “What’s happened?”

“The day we left the capital to come here, there was a prefecture election on Shuhon Island to appoint a new province governor.” Katara nodded her head. She had journeyed to practically every inch of the Fire Nation by now, but she remembered that island and its major hub - Fire Fountain City - particularly. One couldn’t forget being arrested very easily, and she’d visited the city again as Water Tribe ambassador when Zuko had officially opened the statue of Iroh to replace the old one. “Everyone was certain that the incumbent governor, Kida Masuda, was going to be voted out. The guy’s corrupt - everyone knows it - but nobody could ever get enough evidence to prosecute, including me. The islanders hate him, but the results have come out overwhelmingly in favour of Masuda. Naturally, the people suspect election fraud. My attorney general for Shuhon is preparing the legal challenge against Masuda, but protests have already started.”

“If the attorney general is already there dealing with the case, then why do you need to go?”

“To help out with the litigation process - highest authority in the land and all. I can see to it that Masuda faces court justice and I can make sure that the next election runs fair.” Zuko explained, pulling his knee up to his chest. “Mostly though, my presence there shows that I’m taking the issue seriously and if the people there feel listened to, it’s less likely that violence will break out while the legal stuff is organised.”

Katara deflated. It wasn’t as serious as she’d feared, not like in the early days when he’d go out to try and tame riots when there were certainly people in the crowd who meant him harm, but the ultimate effect was going to be the same - Zuko was leaving. “How long will you be gone?”

“Hard to say. A week, a week and a half maybe. It all depends on how fast the province’s legal team can make the case. It’s got to be as airtight as possible because once they prosecute...” He trailed off when he saw how far her face had fallen. “Hey, look, I’m sorry. I know it’s not ideal,” He shuffled over to her side of the door. “-but really it’s a miracle that we lasted this long without some sort of drama taking me away.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “There was always going to have to be a first time.”

She already knew what the answer was going to be, but she threw out her last life-line anyway. “Can’t we come with you?”

He shook his head sternly. “No. Not with Kai. According to this letter, the protests have been peaceful so far but that doesn’t mean they won’t escalate before or after I arrive. Things could get ugly fast and I don’t want him anywhere near there, just in case. Take him home where I know he’ll be safe.”

“Alright.” she sighed in defeat, resigning herself to an empty bed. “Iroh’s not going to be pleased about having to leave The Jasmine Dragon for longer.”

Zuko hesitated at that. “I _am_ planning on asking Uncle to return to Caldera with you but to help you out with the baby, not to sit the throne.” She frowned confusedly before he finished: “I want you to rule while I’m gone.”

She snapped her head up to look at him. “ _Me_?”

The look on his face was slightly amused as he took in her shock. “Is that so surprising? You are the second most powerful person in the Fire Nation.”

“I guess,” She never forgot that, not with all the _my Ladys_ and _ma’ams_ thrown her way that she still couldn’t completely reconcile with. “It’s just... I’ve never ruled a country before.”

Now she thought about it, it was sort of remarkable that she’d been the Fire Lady for five years and had not done a stint as regent, but the circumstances had just never necessitated it. On the rare occasions there’d been a problem of this magnitude, she’d wanted to go with him rather than stay at home and her childlessness had left her free to do that. Deferring that caretaker role to Iroh, who’d been groomed for the throne the majority of his life, had always seemed the more sensible option than taking it for herself.

“Oh, it’s a piece of cake. No trouble at all.” Zuko said sarcastically, before reverting back to a more honest disposition when he saw the concern warping her features. “I’m kidding. It won’t be too hard for you, I promise. No, you haven’t ruled alone but you’ve done it with me for five years and you’re great at it. You know the ins and outs of everything and how to make your voice heard. I trust you completely to make the right choices and I believe the Council respects you enough that you’ll be able to command them without me around.”

Katara was less convinced of that. If it had been up to the Council, Zuko would never have married her in the first place, and though they had warmed to her presence over time, she was never going to forget their first reception. “And if they _don’t_ follow me?”

He raised a knowing eyebrow. “I think you and I both know you’re more than capable of getting some stubborn old men to do what you want. And that’s on a normal day, let alone when you’ve got sovereign powers behind you.”

What he was saying made sense, she knew that, and Katara recognised logically that she was more than capable of filling his place, but still the disquiet lingered. She didn’t pretend to understand exactly why, but the nerves swirling in her gut were clear - it wasn’t that he was going to Shuhon, it was that he was going to Shuhon and leaving _her_ alone. It was an unfamiliar feeling. Of course she missed Zuko when he wasn’t with her, but she’d never felt... _clingy_ like this before.

“Listen, I know that it’s not the perfect timing with Kai so young,” Zuko ventured forward in her silence. “-but I’m starting to realise that there’s no such thing as perfect timing. Not in our lives, atleast.”

“Alright, I’ll do it... just-” She clutched Kai closer to her body, suddenly hyperaware of his presence. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

He missed her unease and offered her his lop-sided grin, the one his son had already inherited from him. “Me? Do something stupid? Never.”

“It’s not funny, Zuko.” she snapped as loudly as she could without disturbing the baby sleeping in her arms. “I mean it. Don’t you _dare_ put yourself in unnecessary danger, or I’ll kill you myself.” Zuko blinked slowly, evidently reeling from the sudden turn of her outburst. “It was different before, when it was just me and you. If you had gotten hurt or if I’d lost you, that would have been bad enough, but it would have only been me at the epicentre. It’s not like that anymore. We have a son now. _You_ have a son, and you owe it to him to stay alive so you can be here for him. I am _not_ going to have him lose a parent. Not like we did.”

“I would never do that to him.”

The look on his face immediately stole the wind from her sails. Sometimes, especially with Ursa around, she forgot that he understood that damage.

She cringed at her own thoughtlessness. “Oh, I know. I’m sorry, I-”

“I’ll be safe, Katara, I promise. They want me there so that I can help them out, not so they can hurt me.” He instinctively reached for her hand but finding them both occupied holding their child, he resorted to squeezing her knee instead. “If you’re nervous about being regent, it’s really not a problem. I can ask Uncle to do it. He won’t mind. In fact, he’ll probably see it as an opportunity to set up another national tea holiday or something.”

“It’s not about being regent. I just...” Katara leaned further against him, tucking her head on his shoulder as she admitted in a small voice: “I don’t want you to go.”

He softened, touching his cheek against her hair. “I don’t want to go either. I’m going to miss you guys so much.”

_But I have to go because that’s my job,_ she finished for him in her head.

Zuko took a lot more pleasure in being the Fire Lord now than he used to, but there were still moments where he wished there had been another choice at the end of the war, an opportunity for him to say no and have the Fire Nation be okay while he faded into obscurity. This was one of those moments.

“I better go and pack my stuff.” he murmured apologetically, planting a kiss on her crown before pushing up to his feet.

“Okay, I’ll give Kai his feed now so you can-”

Her words broke off into a hiss of discomfort, air whistling through her gritted teeth as her attempt to stand ended with her folding forward onto her knees instead. Zuko was there in an instant, scooping Kai out of her arms and into the safety of his stability. With the baby secured in one arm, he placed his hand on her back as she rode out the pain that she could only liken to needles stabbing into each side of her lower abdomen repeatedly. The sensation was sharp enough to bring tears prickling to her eyes, but when she drew water from the skin at her hip and placed her hands at the junctions of her groin, there was nothing there for her to soothe.

It took a few moments of long, measured breaths, but eventually the pain passed.

Zuko’s attention was initially distracted by the baby, grumbling in his sleep at the disturbance, but when she finally rose, his expression was saturated with concern. “That’s the third time that’s happened now.”

Katara sighed. He’d been there when it had troubled her during the first night they’d arrived on the island, but someone else must have told him about the second occasion in the kitchen yesterday afternoon - Aang, probably, if she had to take an educated guess.

“Don’t you say it.” she warned.

He said it, eyes pleading with her. “Go and see the physician when you get home. Please.”

“I’ve already told you. She’s not going to find anything that I can’t. I’ve just pulled a muscle or maybe my cycle is starting to come back. Zuko, I’m a _master_ healer,” she insisted with vague annoyance when his face didn’t change. “I know what I’m doing. It’s nothing serious.”

Zuko said nothing. Taking his silence as submission, she swept past him, taking the baby back into her hold as she passed, and disappearing up the hallway towards their bedroom as if nothing had happened. He bit his lip as he watched her go. He wasn’t so sure. He could usually draw faith from Katara’s confidence - he’d seen first hand what those hands of hers could do - but even masters make mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko being a 'my wife is better than me AND all of you' kinda guy is the hill I'm dying on.


	9. month 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I told you this one would be hefty. I hope you're all safe and coping with this new version of life wherever you are and you enjoy the next instalment. Chapter 10 is already completed ready to go, so you can expect that in a day or two :)

##  **month 8:**

Katara had always appreciated that being the Fire Lord was a tough job. She’d witnessed first-hand how it affected Zuko on both regular days and the worst of them - coming to dinner with hollowed eyes, sternly levelled features and sullen silence, working so far into the small hours that he’d fall asleep on his own arm with his calligraphy brush still poised in hand. 

Now though, she _understood_.

The first week was the hardest. 

She was already in a sour mood after having watched Zuko leave Ember Island alone and in the opposite direction, then it seemed like from the second her foot touched down the dock later that day, she was lost in a hurricane of meetings to attend, speeches to give, deadlines to meet, letters to read, letters to write, and so many questions needing answers that she didn’t have. Zuko did his best to figuratively ‘clean house’ before vacations - burning into late nights in the run-up to their departure to get as much done as possible - but inevitably the neglect always left some backlog for when he returned and he couldn’t have anticipated that it would be her handling it, not him. There were no instructions left behind, no to-do lists or even just cursory notes, because all of that information was wrapped up in the privacy of Zuko’s brain. She made it work, but she did it blindly and she hated that everybody around her - some of them who would take any excuse at all to tear her down, especially now they could be certain that Zuko was not around to hear it - knew as much.

By the start of the second week, things eased into a rhythm as her secretary hammered out the chaos into something workable. She rose earlier in the morning than she liked and ate breakfast while she was briefed her on the day ahead. Iroh would eat with her before taking his grandson away, and Katara would be equal parts relieved and disappointed when Kai didn’t make a fuss about going with him. The majority of the day would pass by in a blur of councillors, ministers, nobles and advisers, before she settled in her office for the late afternoon to prepare herself for the next day. Kai would appear when Iroh brought him along to nurse but the occasions were infrequent - perhaps only twice in the whole window of her absence, sometimes even less. 

The furious pace of her son’s development hadn’t slowed as he’d gone from six to seven, and now seven to eight months old. If anything he was accelerating, and she meant that quite literally since he’d recently discovered he could get around on his own. Katara wasn’t ready to call it crawling just yet - he hadn’t figured out that he could use his legs in conjunction with his arms - but it was close enough.

Kai was growing up fast.

Katara was disturbed from dwelling on that by a rapping noise on the balcony door behind her. As she swivelled around in her seat to address it, the sound initially remained without a source but then her eyes found the creature on the floor, knocking its beak on the glass pane. 

She leaned over and pushed the handle down to let her in. “Hello, Sora.”

The loud crow offered in answer didn’t quite mask the endearing clicking of the bird’s talons against the floor as she scuttled into Katara’s office. With a strong sweep of her wings, Zuko’s favourite hawk sprung up onto her desk and immediately presented the side of her neck for a scratch. Sora was the only messenger bird she’d ever encountered that sought petting from a recipient _before_ offering the scroll - a trait certainly a product of her master’s outrageous spoiling of her - but Katara obliged the demand nonetheless. 

“With the amount of letters you’ve carried this past fortnight, you’ve probably spent more time in flight than landed. You must be exhausted, huh, girl?” The bird of prey just trilled contentedly as she rubbed her favourite spot just beneath the blood red feathers of her facial crest. “Don’t worry. I doubt you’ll be going anywhere now. You can go and rest up in the hawkery with your friends.”

Sora insisted on a few more minutes of scratching before she deemed that Katara had earned her correspondence, turning her back so she could access the letter. The instant the parchment was pulled from the holster, the hawk hopped from the desk and retreated to the balcony as Katara unrolled the scroll.

Zuko had already been away for longer than he’d estimated. Almost as soon as he’d arrived on Shuhon Island, a week had been quick to turn to a week and a half, then to two, but she’d expected that to be the last of the delays. Her eagerness at hearing from him - anticipating a note to let her know he was on his way home - was quick to turn to disappointment as she read through.

The job of regent - demanding as it was - she could do, but there was no fix to missing her husband and in a fit of frustration, she tossed the letter to the ground vehemently. Sora halted her feather cleaning to screech at the scroll rattling towards her, batting her wings defensively before she leapt off of the balcony edge altogether and flew away. Katara muttered a quick apology to the raptor as she stood to retrieve the letter from the floor. It was a wasted gesture in any case. 

The gist of the words was already impressed on her mind.

_Dear Katara,_

_Business here on Shuhon is_ finally _finished. Courtesy of yours truly, Governor Masuda has been stripped of his titles and was convicted by the jury under charges of sabotage, fraud and treason yesterday. He’ll be transferred to the Boiling Rock later this evening and I imagine that Kai will probably be well into his teens - if not a grown man - by the time Masuda is deemed eligible for release. Without him at play, the second election ran smoothly. Naturally, I’ll be keeping a close eye on things for a while yet, but the towns and villages I’ve visited around the island over the last few days seem happy enough with their new governor. I’m hopeful that things will work out on their own going forward and the people here will finally feel that they have their voice back._

_I’m leaving here after the new governor’s inauguration ceremony tomorrow, but I’m going to have to make a slight detour up north on the return journey. Some old friends of Aang and I have summoned me to them. I’m hoping_ _it’ll only be a short visit - I plan to make it one; I miss you and Kai so much more than I can say - but you should still expect me later than I last said, atleast two days. I’ll write you again if it’s going to be any longer than that._

_I love you,_

_Zuko_

Without thinking, she dropped to her heels to pick up the scroll. The pain beset her almost instantly, shooting up the sides of her abdomen in red hot sparks. She reached out blindly for the desk to hold herself up right, the edge of the wood cutting into her palm as she grasped it. Perhaps there was a bright side to Zuko’s delay, in that maybe the extra few days would see off this problem before he came back and was able to force her to see the physician. Rationally, she knew that was very much wishful thinking. The pains had shown no signs of improvement in the two weeks he’d already been gone. In fact they were only getting worse, provoked more often and by much smaller movements.

Her office door peeked open as she breathed through the needling sensations. In the frame, Chairwoman Qiaoling’s eyes widened as she spotted her Fire Lady crouched immobile beside her desk. “I’m sorry, my Lady, is this a bad time? I can always come back later on.”

“No, no. Please come in.” She gritted her teeth as she forced herself to stand up straight and conquer the few steps back to her chair. “What can I do for you?”

Qiaoling held up a scroll, near identical to the one she’d just received. “It seems that Fire Lord Zuko isn’t going to be back with us in time for the start of next week, so I thought I’d bring you the agenda sheet.”

Katara immediately devised a strategy to avoid addressing the elephant mandrill in the room and put it into action. She encouraged Qiaoling to sit down at her desk and had her walk her through every last detail on the Council’s weekly task list. There was never a shortage of things needing to be done in the Fire Nation, problems arising to replace the ones solved last week, so that was a rather lengthy endeavour. Still, even as Qiaoling talked and talked and talked about other things, the curious concern lingered in her eyes and eventually, as she turned to leave, it came out.

“I don’t mean to pry, my Lady, but are you feeling alright?”

Katara made a show of confusion, frowning deeply at the chairwoman’s query. “Yes, why?”

“I noticed you were in some discomfort when you sat down at the council table this morning, and again just now when I arrived.” Katara silently cursed her inability to keep a straight face as the councilwoman continued on. “If you’re unwell then we can easily arrange some down time for you. Nobody anticipated the Fire Lord being away on business for so long and it’s a lot of pressure on you, especially with the baby, too-”

“I’m okay.” she cut her off nonchalantly. “Just strained a muscle, I think.” 

Qiaoling had always exuded this air of omniscience and she was very clearly unconvinced but she decided not to press further, sweeping out of the door with nothing but a bow of the head. Katara relaxed back into her chair, tilting her head up to the ceiling as she lounged in the silence, but barely five minutes after Qiaoling departed, there was another knock at the door.

When she opened it, she sighed at the face she wasn’t expecting to see, a symbol that she’d forgotten about something in all the chaos.

“Forgive me, Doctor Maho, I thought Kai’s health check wasn’t until next week. Things have been a little... _hectic_ , to say the least, with Zuko having to go away so suddenly.” Katara excused herself as she bustled away from the door, returning to her desk to check the schedule prepared by the secretaries. Finding nothing pencilled to explain the physician’s presence, she instead reached for her personal diary in the desk drawer. “Kai’s not in here at the moment, he’s with General Iroh. You’ll have to give me a second to go and fetch-”

“His check-up _is_ next week, my Lady.” Maho clarified as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “I’m here for you, not the prince.”

Katara halted in her steps. “ _Me?_ Whatever for? I’m fine.”

“Unfortunately, Fire Lord Zuko seems to think differently. He sent me a note just before he left for Shuhon Island expressing some concerns about you. He said that you’d been having sporadic abdominal pains while you were on vacation. I was going to check in on you at some point anyway but when the chairwoman mentioned to me this morning about you seeming to be in pain, I thought I’d better come and look you over sooner.”

She couldn’t be mad at Qiaoling - she didn’t know any better - but herhusband was another matter entirely. He _did_ know better. 

_Zuko, you are a_ dead _man when you get home,_ Katara swore to herself while she plastered on an apologetic smile for the physician. 

“I’m sorry to waste your time like this but Zuko is overreacting. I told him myself that it was nothing to worry about. I couldn’t find anything with my bending.” she explained as irritation incensed her blood. Why, oh why, did she choose to marry a fusser? “I’ve probably just slept at an odd angle or over-reached during a bending form. It’ll go away on its own, I’m sure of it.”

“Well, if it’s nothing to worry about then you won’t mind if I give you a quick examination and put our minds to rest, hm?”

She met the eye of the austere family physician, completely unfazed by her attempt to brush her off. She knew the woman well enough by now to know that she was not going to be deterred that easily.

“Alright. Fine, but it _will_ have to be quick.” Katara warned in a last ditch attempt to get rid of her. “I’ve got a meeting with the petitions committee in a half hour.”

Maho nodded briskly. “I’ll keep it as brief as possible, my Lady. Please lie down.”

She sighed in defeat as she made her way over to the sitting area, reclining on the couch with her head rested on one arm and the balls of her feet on the other. The doctor shifted the chabudai table out of the way to kneel at her side. She didn’t retrieve any instruments from her bag, instead only using her bare hands to palpate at the bottom of her torso through the cloth of her dress. Katara felt a rush of self-satisfaction when the physician felt nothing abnormal at the source of her pain in the crooks of her pelvis - evident in the steadiness of her expression. When she moved a little higher, though, the heels of her hands carefully applying pressure to the centre of her lower abdomen, something changed.

“Would you mind undoing your dress and bringing it down to your hips, please, my Lady?” 

“Why?” Katara asked warily as she appraised the deep frown creasing the physician’s brow. “Is there something wrong?”

Maho hesitated, but clearly thought better of sharing whatever suspicion was on her mind at that moment, instead saying: “I need to get a better feel of your abdomen without the fabric in the way.”

She did as she was told, sliding the buttons loose and shrugging the dress down her arms, leaving her top half completely bare but for the loose bindings around her breasts. The nerves swirling in her gut weren’t from embarrassment - modesty had to go out the window when the person concerned had literally put their hand inside you before - but from fear. 

She’d been so adamant of own judgement that she truly hadn’t considered there might really be something wrong.

“What is it?” she demanded, an edge of panic in her voice as Maho palpated her stomach again before withdrawing her hands with a surprised jerk.

It took the physician a few seconds to answer as she sat back on her heels in a manner Katara could only quantify as dumbfounded. “Please excuse my bluntness, my Lady,” she said, her dark orange eyes blinking rapidly with disbelief. “-but are you really telling me you don’t know what’s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Katara retorted as she pulled her dress back up to cover herself, but it came out more like a plea than a statement.

“Well, my Lady, I suppose there’s nothing _wrong_ with you per se,” She was so stunned by the incredulous giggle that came from the physician’s mouth - smiles were rare, laughter was non-existent - that she almost missed the explanation for it. Almost. “-but I _am_ certain that you’re expecting again. And fairly soon, too, by the feel of things. You’ve definitely already passed your first trimester.”

Katara’s mouth dried up and her insides rolled, like she’d been floating high in the sky and was now plummeting down to earth at a terminal velocity.

Her voice came out as little more than a whisper. “ _Pregnant_?”

“Yes, ma’am. I know it must seem a little implausible - giving that big of a diagnosis just by pressing on your stomach alone - but I can feel your uterus, hence your uterus is above your pubic bone and therefore you’re later than the first trimester.” The smile on the physician’s face wavered as she took in the devastating shock consuming her patient. “I’m sorry, I’m aware this must be quite a lot for you to take in. You don’t _look_ pregnant, I’ll admit.”

“But I-, I-” Katara stammered as she frantically searched through the last three months of her life, looking for any inklings that she might have missed but finding nothing. No stirring instincts, no symptoms, nothing at all to suggest a _baby_. “No. No, that can’t be right. It _can’t_ be right.”

“It is.” The physician raised an amused eyebrow at the deja-vu of the Fire Lady’s response. “I could give you an internal exam to further confirm it if it would make you feel better, but I think you’d sooner take my word for it. Besides you could always use your bending to take a look-”

Maho was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, before it opened without invitation.

“Lady Katara, I’ve got those records on hospitals in Khersai Province that you-” Her secretary passed over the threshold blindly, eyes distracted by the stack of files in her hand, before she looked up at the room and halted in her tracks. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were alone, ma’am.” Amida took in the situation before her as she sunk into an apologetic curtsy - her Lady laid out on the couch with the royal physician at her side. “Is everything alright?”

Maho waited a few seconds for Katara to regain control of herself, but when the silence stretched on a little too long for comfort, she took up the mantle and answered in her stead. “Yes, everything is fine, but could you see to it that the Fire Lady’s schedule is cleared for the rest of the day and ask General Iroh if he can keep an eye on Prince Kaito for a little while longer? Until dinnertime, if the baby doesn’t need to feed before then. I believe Lady Katara needs to take some time for herself this afternoon, and could you have some tea sent up to us? Something decaffeinated and calming like-”

“Not chamomile.” Katara heard herself interject but it was an out of body experience. Her brain had reverted to autopilot - spitting out a rejection of chamomile since she hadn’t liked the smell while pregnant with Kai - as shock overtook her system.

“Peppermint, then.” The physician continued seamlessly. “And perhaps some butter cookies?”

Amida dithered only for a moment before she nodded her head and disappeared back the way she’d came, stopping only to leave the documents she’d brought on the dresser. The second the door closed behind her, Maho turned to Katara.

“My Lady, I realise it's a big ask but I’m going to need you to stay as calm as you possibly can.”

Katara exploded into the exact opposite. 

“Stay calm? _Stay calm_? Are you kidding me? I’ve been carrying a baby - an actual human baby, Zuko and I’s _child_ \- for over three months and I didn’t even _notice_. I’m a healer. I’ve been pregnant before. How is that even possible?” she blurted out, her words coming as fast as her heart was pounding away in her chest. “Spirits, I... I haven’t been looking after myself at all. I’ve had all the wrong foods - sushi, duck eggs, so many soft cheeses. I’ve had wine. I had a glass literally just last night. I’ve been taking _birth control_...” she trailed off before her eyes widened in alarm. “Wait a second. If I-, if I’m...” Katara can barely bring herself to say the word again. “ _Pregnant._ ” she finally managed to spit out as her hands flew to her abdomen - her perfectly ordinary abdomen. “ _-_ then where are those pains coming from?” 

“It’s alright, try not to panic. The pains are probably from your round ligaments, where your womb is growing out, stretching the connective tissues around it too rapidly and causing spasms. You had them during your pregnancy with Prince Kaito, remember? Albeit much more mildly. It’s probably more painful this time around since you made an effort to train your core after the prince was born, so your muscles are tightened and less flexible to change.” Doctor Maho reassured, gently easing her back down against the arm of the couch by her shoulders. “It hurts but I promise it’s harmless.”

She wanted to believe it, she really did, but she couldn’t. “But-, but everything else-”

“Everything else is already done. You can’t take it back.” the physician said sternly before her voice softened a little. “Whatever is wrong - _if_ there’s anything wrong at all and that’s by no means certain - you didn’t know and it’s not your fault. What you can do now is not make things worse by putting yourself through further stress. Take a deep breath with me.” It took a few attempts, but eventually Katara followed her lead and steadied her breathing. “Good. Now, how about we actually take a look and see what we’re dealing with?” 

Katara reached for her waterskin, but Maho put her hand on her wrist to stop her. “You’re in no condition to self-assess right now. Let me do the basics then perhaps tonight, when you’ve settled down, you can try and tend to yourself.”

She didn’t challenge the doctor’s opinion, lying still on the couch as Maho reached into her bag and extracted a small wooden cone.

“You know what this is?” she asked as she folded aside the material of Katara’s dress to access her stomach again.

Katara nodded. “It’s a pinard horn. My Gran Gran uses one.”

“Then you know that if I don’t hear anything with this, that doesn’t necessarily mean that there’s no pulse - only that the fetus is too small or in a poor position for my ears to pick it up?” She nodded again and with that reassurance, the physician pressed the end of the horn to her bare abdomen, the wooden edge cold against her skin.

In spite of the warning, the long moment of silence - of Maho positioning and repositioning the horn at different spots over her belly - felt dreadful as Katara tried to account for all the things she could possibly have done to hurt her baby.

But then the physician’s attention lingered over one particular spot for a minute, then two, before she finally said: “There’s a heartbeat.”

It was the most basic of starts and far from a guarantee of anything but Katara couldn’t help the hopefulness filtering into her tone. “Really?”

“Yes. Nice and strong, if a little fast, but that’s probably because your own heart rate is up. Monitor it with your bending later on and let me know if it’s anywhere above one-eighty.” The physician nodded approvingly as she set aside the horn on the chabudai, shifting her weight to ease the strain on her legs folded into place beneath her. “This may be a bit of a struggle given the circumstances but do you have any guesses as to when you might have conceived? If you can narrow it down to an approximate window, I can better assess whether your womb, and thereby the fetus, is roughly the right size. If I can hear its pulse with the horn, then you’re probably atleast seventeen weeks in, if that helps jog your memory at all.”

Katara was expecting it to be a insurmountable challenge, trying to figure out exactly when this could have happened, but there was one occasion in her mind that stuck out immediately. An unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar country, the warmth of Zuko’s chest beneath her palms, sweat trickling down her spine with rolling hips, drinking orange juice in the morning with little thought beyond _‘it’s the wrong time of the month anyway’_.

“I-, I think it might have been at the Earth Kingdom summit in Ba Sing Se,” she admitted reluctantly. “-or shortly after it, so about... eighteen weeks ago.”

The words instantly left her burning with humiliation that she - a master healer, as she’d so humbly pointed out to Zuko only a few weeks ago - had somehow overlooked her own pregnancy for four and a half months, but Maho was unbothered as she felt her abdomen again, her fingertips digging into her as they probed around trying to make out a shape.

“Four and a half months feels about right to me.” The physician concluded as she reached back into her case, drew out a bundle of white sarashi cloths and laid them on the Fire Lady’s lap. “Here. Go in the bathroom and put these on. For your round ligament pain.” she prompted when she only stared at them blankly like they were foreign objects. “Strapping up your stomach will help ease the pressure on the tissues.”

Katara slunk off to the adjoining bathroom in the silence of a near fugue state, one hand clutching her dress shut and the other winding the lengths of sarashi dressings around her fingers absently. When the door clicked shut behind her, she released the fabric clenched in her fist and allowed her dress to fall to the floor, leaving her completely bare but for her underwear and sandals. Abandoning the sarashi cloths on the counter, she reached up and grabbed the mirror from the wall, leaning it up against the cupboards beneath the wash basin. She turned to her side, retreated back from the glass until her lower torso was in full view, and scrutinised her profile. She was not as flat and toned there she’d once been and with the benefit of retrospect, she _was_ looking a bit puffier around her midsection, but certainly nowhere near a clear indication that she was pregnant at all - let alone four and a half months along. Her thoughts wandered to the one and only other person who was qualified to comment on her body.

_Had Zuko noticed?_ Katara wondered as her hands smoothed down over her abdomen, fingers stroking at the silvered marks at her hips left behind by Kai. _Would he have said anything if he did?_

There was no polite way to ask someone if they were pregnant based on physicality alone, she concluded, and Zuko might not be the most socially tactful but he would never risk being wrong over something like that. That was a big over-step into sleeping on the couch for a fortnight territory. He would wait for her to bring it up, but he probably hadn’t noticed. Zuko had plenty more cares in the world than worrying about why his wife may or may not be a few pounds heavier around her stomach.

She sighed at the thought of breaking that news as she began winding the dressings around her middle. In the long run, he’d probably be absolutely thrilled - just as she, even though it was largely smothered out by the shock, was beginning to feel a dim flicker of joy - but initially, she predicted, he would handle it with even less grace than her.

By the time she’d bound up her abdomen and redressed, a servant had delivered the tea tray that the physician had requested. Katara padded over to vacant armchair opposite the couch where Maho had sat herself down. 

For a moment, she just sat in silence and watched as the doctor delicately strained the peppermint leaves and filled the bone china teacups. Katara’s arms were wrapped around her midsection with a fierce onset of protectiveness - like she was making up for the eighteen weeks of instinct missed - and suddenly she blurted out: 

“Have I been in denial this whole time?”

Katara was startled by her own question, in both the abruptness of its posing and the content, but the physician seemed not to be.

“No, I don’t think so. Your ignorance seems authentic to me.” Maho answered with her familiar mild bluntness as she picked up her tea and settled back on the couch, a butter biscuit tucked between her ring and pinky fingers.

“Thanks, I guess.” Katara managed a laugh as the stern physician she was used to made her return now the worst of the panic had passed. She reached forward for her own cup. The minty steam rising from the surface cleared her head as she breathed in the vapour. “What makes you so sure of that?”

“I won’t pretend to know you well, ma’am,” The elder woman considered the question for a moment, her unusual rusty-coloured irises piercing straight through her. “-but you’ve never struck me as a woman who runs from her problems. Besides that, by my reckoning, you have no real reason to avoid recognising that you’re pregnant.” She paused to take a bite out of her biscuit. “It’s happened rather quickly after Prince Kaito - he and his sibling will only be about fourteen months apart in age - so perhaps you might be feeling reluctant about another child in that regard, but it’s not exactly an unsolvable concern. Most women who experience denial in this way are young unmarried girls too afraid to tell their parents, women who can’t provide for a child for whatever reason, or wives who fear how their husband might react - none of which apply to you.” Maho smiled slightly. “Combined with the facts that you’re not yet showing much, you haven’t experienced any other physical signs, and you’re a _very_ busy woman even when you’re not covering for the Fire Lord, I can see how this baby has unintentionally gone unnoticed.”

Her judgement was reassuring in the sense that maybe Katara could believe she _wasn’t_ the worst mother in the world for ignoring her own child for half a pregnancy, but enough doubt must have lingered in her face for the physician to ask: “How are you feeling now, my Lady?”

“Better, thank you,” she reassured, knocking back a mouthful of the tea and only half-wishing it was something more potent. “-but will you please just call me Katara? You have seen far too much of me to still be calling me _my Lady_.”

“Alright, _Katara_.” Maho chuckled. “Funnily enough, your mother-in-law once told me a similar thing when I was an apprentice.”

“She did?” At first, she didn’t notice the implication of the doctor’s words. She was too caught up with the fact that Maho was at one time an apprentice. Of course it made sense that she’d had to train first, but the idea of Maho ever being anything less than all-knowing and all-powerful was new to her. Eventually, she made the inference. “Hold on. Did you deliver Zuko?”

“I was there when he was born, yes. The head physician at the time delivered him. I just assisted.” she corrected subtly, folding her leg over the other as she took a dignified sip from her cup. “He was such a quiet little thing. I remember when he first came out, we panicked because - especially after such a long-winded and stressed birth - we thought he was still. We had to pinch the soles of his feet to get him to cry.” The smile generated from the prior conversation faded as the memory seemed to slide in behind her eyes. “It was certainly a trial by fire. Even after all my years since, as a lead physician, it’s still the worst delivery I have ever attended; a title I sincerely hope you don’t ever inherit.” she tsked as she set down her teacup on the table between them. 

Zuko had mentioned before that his birth had been troubled, but he’d been sparse on the details and it had always felt wrong somehow to press Ursa herself about it. “Why was it so bad?” Katara ventured. “What happened?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed how _young_ your mother-in-law is.”

She had noticed, from the first time she’d seen Ursa in that little house in Hira’a. When she stood side-by-side with her son, to a stranger, Ursa straddled that precarious line of looking not quite young enough to be Zuko’s sister, but not quite old enough for people to confidently assume she was his mother either.

“She was little more than a girl when she married Prince Ozai and he wasn’t much older either. She had her nineteenth birthday just a few days before she delivered Prince Zuko.” Maho continued when Katara nodded. “She was already so small and slight, and her body was still maturing. She wasn’t physically ready to undergo childbirth, and it wasn’t just the labour itself that stuck with me. It was... Prince Ozai, too.” She shuddered, the hand resting on her knee balling into a fist as she recounted. “We wanted to operate on her by the middle of the second day, when it was clear that she was having an obstructed labour, but Ozai forbade it. He said that if Zuko could not survive birth the natural way then it would be for the best to allow nature to take its course.”

It was _Ozai_ , Katara reminded herself, nothing said about him should surprise her anymore, but still the revulsion and horror flooded through her veins. 

“You should have done the cesarean anyway!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, perhaps we should have. I have always regretted letting Princess Ursa suffer like that, but the decision was not mine to make back then and it was a very different time.” The doctor explained tersely. “If we had defied the prince’s orders so directly, we’d probably have been imprisoned or banished - maybe even executed for insubordination if Fire Lord Azulon was having an off day.”

Katara was already consumed with wondering what that must have been like for Ursa - a nineteen-year old girl lying there exhausted and in agony, far from home with no loved ones there at her side to support her, knowing her child was getting into mortal danger within her but nobody being able to help her protect him, wondering if this was going to kill them both - when extraordinarily Maho managed to make that image even worse.

“She laboured for three days; after all that time, all the suffering she’d endured, and the only thing that he said to her was that perhaps the next one would be more promising.” The physician shook her head in disbelief, twenty-seven years later. “We couldn’t get her to stop crying for hours.”

Of course, she immediately thought of Zuko, of Ursa’s little baby boy who wasn’t ever good enough by his father’s measure, at the moment she’d given birth to his own son. He’d been there at her side for every second of the labour, holding her hand tight in his own, comforting and encouraging her, wholly humbled, ready to do whatever he could to help her. When Kai had finally came into the world, he’d cried as much as she had, if not more. The love in his eyes for both her and their son had been so plainly honest - unadulterated, unending and unconditional. In spite of her insistence that he owed her no debts, he hadn’t been able to stop thanking her for weeks afterwards and sometimes, in quiet moments where they watched over their child together and relished in his existence, he still slipped her his gratitude in a gentle whisper.

Katara didn’t like to say that she was lucky - everyone deserved someone to not only love them with the fullness of their heart, but to show it openly - but perhaps she was lucky to have found it in Zuko specifically.

* * *

Katara shook her head to sharpen up her bleary eyes as she picked up yet another of the healing scrolls spread around her. 

It had been a while since she’d touched any of the ones relating to antenatal practices. Although she still performed a lot of healing in the logistical sense of the word - implementing universal healthcare, building new hospitals and clinics in accessible reach of all, improving welfare standards, incentivising waterbender healers to travel in and work - but opportunities for the _Fire Lady_ to get her own hands dirty were unsurprisingly scarce. The last time that she’d dealt with a pregnancy was when it was her own, quite a way back though it seemed much nearer in her head. Now it was her second child that needed her gifts, she thought, the fingers of her free hand ghosting over the fabric covering her abdomen.

It had taken two long days for the news to settle but eventually, a tentative acceptance had allowed her to reach this moment - preparing to assess herself.

She blew off the layer of dust blanketing the ornate handles but before she could unroll the parchment, she was interrupted by a rustle in the crib beside her. 

Kai had been moving in and out of a reluctant sleep for the past three hours, but the final straw seemed to have been reached as he hauled himself to sit upright. For a moment, he just stared at her through the bars of the cot, fringe falling into his eyes as he blinked sleepily, then he pointed at the bedroom door.

The gesture could have meant literally anything. Pointing was the latest thing that Kai had learned to do, along with clapping his hands, so naturally he was doing it a thousand times a day right now just to prove that he could. Most of the time he did it only for the novelty, but occasionally there was an intent trying to be conveyed.

Katara tilted her head quizzically. “Who are you asking for? Grandpa Iroh?”

Kai’s arm stayed directed at the door, but his lack of a reaction at the sound of Iroh’s name indicated she’d guessed wrong. She gave it another stab.

“Daddy?” she asked in a quieter voice. “You want your Daddy?”

Of course that was it. Zuko’s worry that maybe Kai would forget him while he was away was completely unfounded. His eyes widened and his pouted bottom lip quivered as he pointed again more assertively. There could be no doubt this time that he knew what he was signalling.

“No. I’m sorry, sweetie. He’s still not here.” she sighed apologetically. She set the unopened healing scroll down on the bedside table and swung her legs out of bed. The old floorboards were cold beneath her soles as she crossed the few steps to the crib. “I get that you miss him. I miss him, too, but he’ll be home soon, I promise. Maybe by this time tomorrow.”

The baby was unconvinced, letting out a thin whimper. Katara caved instantly, reaching into the cot and lifting him up onto her hip.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not good enough for me either but at least we have each other, right?” she said, brushing his fringe out of his eyes delicately. “How about you sleep in the big bed with Mama tonight? You can’t tell Daddy about it, though, that’s the deal. I’d never hear the end of my hypocrisy.”

Taking the quiet babbling he emitted as he fiddled with her braid draped over her shoulder for complicity, she plopped him down on his father’s vacant half of the bed. By the time she’d scavenged enough pillows and built up a barricade to keep him from rolling off the mattress, Kai had already drifted off again. He was always particularly adorable when he was sleeping - that she wouldn’t deny - but she couldn’t fully contain a sigh as she tucked him in gently. Katara had never quite learned to appreciate the moments of quiet like most mothers seemed to. Growing up, Gran Gran had shone a bright light but it had never quite dispelled the hollow shadows left behind by her mom and dad. After the war, all she’d wanted was a home and now that she had one of her own, she liked to have life in it - a task, she considered with a thrill as she retreated on tip toes, that would be even easier to fulfil when there was four of them around. Finally, the balance was tipping, her happiness beginning to outweigh her shock.

Somewhere between sitting down on her own side of the bed and opening the scroll, she must have fallen asleep herself because the next thing that Katara knew, she was sunken down beneath the sheets and the candle on her nightstand had long since guttered, leaving the room in darkness.

She immediately looked to her side in the assumption that the baby’s stirring had startled her awake but Kai was completely out to it, his squeaky little snores the only apparent sound in the room. Until she heard the slightest shuffling of feet. Her stomach immediately plummeted when she snapped her head forward and saw the looming great shadow-figure in front of her. Katara was just about ready to scream and call her element to hand when she noticed the crest, the gold headpiece glinting in the muted light from outside.

“ _Zuko_?” she called as she slid up the headboard.

The sconces on her nearest wall lit and there he was, standing at the foot of the bed with an awkward grimace on his face like he’d been gone for five minutes, not two whole weeks.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Zuko winced before he made his way over to her bedside. “I was just trying to figure out how to get into bed since my side is uh... _occupied_.” He looked down on her with a righteous half smile as he gestured his hand towards their sleeping child. “What happened to not letting Kai come in with us, huh? How many times have you told me off for giving in to him and not putting up boundaries? I have to say, Katara, I’m feeling a little cheated.”

Katara didn’t defend herself. She just reached up and wrapped her arms around him as Zuko sat on the edge of the mattress. She buried a hand in his hair, the outer layers chilled by the night air, and her face in the crook of his neck. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” she murmured to him after a few moments of quiet.

“Me too.” he murmured back, squeezing her in his warm embrace. “I wished you were there with me every day but then as I came in through the door, everyone was tripping over themselves to tell me what an excellent job you did.” He pulled away, tucking a curl of her hair pulled loose from her braid behind her ear. “How was it? Nobody gave you trouble?”

She shrugged. “Councilman Kobayashi did some grumbling at first but I dealt with it.”

Zuko grinned with pride. “Of course you did.” 

“It was actually kind of... _fun_. Hard, especially since you’re so damn scatterbrained at the best of times, let alone when you’ve been on vacation,” she scolded, prodding his shoulder to illustrate her point. “-but I think I enjoyed it.”

He raised his eyebrow in surprise. He’d expected her to be good at it, sure, but _enjoyment_ was a big stretch. “Really? You can take over from me permanently if you like. It’s not a coup if I say you can.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” she laughed. “-but I’ll do it again whenever the next time is, though that better not be soon.” 

She knew that he couldn’t really promise her that - she’d been aware of the unavoidable turbulence in his life, and therefore in their family’s, from the beginning - but he offered the sentiment to her with firmness anyway. “It won’t be.”

Katara sighed as she looked at him. Given what was now going to be happening over the next few months, she really hoped that was true. 

“Zuko, something, uh... _came up_ while you were away. I have to-”

He broke her off as he kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry about it. You can catch me up on work in the morning.” He tipped his chin towards Kai before she could correct him. “And how was he?”

After a second of hesitation, she accepted the redirection in conversation. She supposed there was no rush. “His sleeping pattern is still a bit up and down but other than that, great. He’s missed you a lot - he’ll be so excited when he wakes up and sees you - but he’s loved having Iroh around instead. Probably because he’s been spoiling him rotten.”

“What’s new there?” He rolled his eyes but the affection for his uncle was plain as day. “About his sleeping, I’ve been thinking that maybe the reason he’s disturbing so much is because of the crib itself. A lot of the time when I wake up to him, he’s not crying straight away, it’s always a few seconds after. I think he’s rolling over and banging his head or his arms or something on the bars, and that’s why he sleeps better when he’s in with us.” Zuko said as he leaned back to stroke his fingers across his son’s head. He chuckled quietly when Kai grumbled in his sleep at the touch, rolling onto his side and out of reach. “I know he’s a bit young yet, but perhaps we could try him with a bed? Not a proper _proper_ one - just in case he falls out and hurts himself - but something wide and low to the ground might be better for him.”

“I guess it’s worth a shot atleast.” Katara conceded. That explanation was the best she’d heard as to why their son had suddenly started waking up in the night again, crying out with seemingly no build up. “It’d be safer than trying to cushion the sides out.” 

_And it would be so much simpler for Kai to already have given up the cot by time the new baby comes_ , she thought to herself silently.

Just as Katara was preparing to break the news, Zuko unwittingly presented the perfect opportunity for her. He stood up and stepped over to the crib, running his palm across the lacquered wood of the top rail. “It’ll be a shame to take it apart so soon though. It’s a lovely piece.”

She smiled to herself. “You won’t have to disassemble the crib.”

The intended implication went completely over his head.

“No, I suppose not, there’s plenty of space in here.” he answered innocently as she came to join him, twining her arms around his waist from behind. “We could just leave it where it is for now, or we could put it in one of the empty bedrooms down the hall. If there’s one thing this place doesn’t lack for it’s gotta be room to store things.”

“That’s not really what I meant. Maybe... maybe somebody else could make use of it fairly soon?” she prompted a little more heavily as she leaned into him, moulding her form to his back.

Zuko was silent for a moment, considering her words.

“Yes. You’re right. I suppose it _would_ make a nice gift for Sokka and Suki when their baby comes.” Katara barely stifled a laugh at his unsuspecting nature, pressing her forehead to the ridge of spine between his shoulders as he continued on naively. “I mean we’d have to sand over the Fire Nation crest - rework it with the Earth Kingdom seal for Suki. Actually it’d probably just be easier to have the headboard replaced or I could track down the carpenter and have him make an entirely new one for them. Maybe that’d be better, since my mother and Ikem gave us this one, though I’m sure they’d understand if we did want to pass it along-”

“No, Zuko.” she giggled, taking him by the shoulders and spinning him around to face her. “Not for their baby.” 

His eyes were still blank. Tired from the journey, she guessed, but then he’d always been kind of oblivious. He was really going to make her spell it out for him. Katara took his hands and pressed them flat to her abdomen wordlessly. For a moment, he was at a loss, staring at his hands on her like they weren’t his own, but then came a soft murmur.

“Oh.” 

A few more beats passed. 

“ _Oh_.” he repeated with more conviction, eyes shooting up to look at her and it was almost like he’d never seen her before. “For ours. Our baby.” 

Katara nodded, laying her palms atop his as he released a breathy laugh. She could see him toying with the next question lined up in his head, wondering whether it was worth it, but the uncertainty convinced him to say it. 

“Now?”

“Well, not right this second, I’ve still got a few more months to go but-”

“You’re pregnant.” he blurted out. A beam brighter than anything she’d ever witnessed before lifted his lips. The next thing she knew, the floor disappeared from beneath her and her hands were gripping onto his shoulders as he lifted her up into an embrace. “Katara, that’s-, that’s _wonderful_.” As quickly as he’d picked her up, he set her back down and his face was wrought with concern as he appraised her. “Wait, hold on a second, are you... are you _happy_ about this? It’s so much sooner than we planned. We said that we were going to wait until atleast next year.”

“I know, but clearly we weren’t supposed to wait.” she smiled in reassurance, cupping the side of his neck in her palm. “Yeah, I’m happy. Once I got over the initial shock that is. You’re doing a better job of handling it than I did so far. I freaked out.”

That invited a whole other plethora of urgent questions. “How _did_ you find out? And when? You haven’t been sick, have you? Did I not notice? I’m so sorry, I’ve been busy but I’m always busy, that’s no...”

“Zuko.” He trailed off as she put a finger to his lips. “You didn’t miss a thing, I promise. I haven’t been feeling sick this time. I found out because...” Katara paused as she suddenly remembered the reason herself, an indignant frown crinkling her brow. “Because _you_ sent the doctor to me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” he apologised sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. I knew you’d hate it, but I was worried and you wouldn’t listen to me so I thought maybe you’d listen to her instead. She’s scarier than me.”

She hummed sceptically at her husband but didn’t pursue it further. How could she even attempt to? It was impossible after the physician had not only produced a diagnosis that proved him right, but one that raised the significance of his concerns astronomically higher. “She came by a couple of days ago, pressed on my stomach and well... she could feel it.” Katara told him. “Those pains I’ve been having are growing pains, where my womb is stretching out and putting pressure on the tissues surrounding it.” she explained before he could jump to another conclusion.

Perhaps Zuko - with the knowledge he’d gathered up during her first pregnancy - should have twigged from the details that her pregnancy was more advanced than the traditional _‘finding out’_ stages, but with a thousand other things clamouring for attention in his head, it passed him by unnoticed. His vindication, however, did not.

“I did tell you you needed to have it checked out.”

“Don’t be sanctimonious to the pregnant lady, Zuko. It never ends well.”

“ _Pregnant_.” Zuko whispered the word like it was something sacred, as he enveloped her into another hug. The same feeling was materialised in his eyes when he pulled away to stare down at her middle, his forehead almost touching hers. “I can’t believe this is happening.” He blinked as the obvious question he had yet to ask popped into his head. “When _did_ this happen?”

She sucked in a breath. Zuko had done an admirable job of receiving the main news, swerving the panic she’d been expecting and going straight to elation. There was no way he was going to take the next critical addition so smoothly.

Softening the blow was impossible, so she didn’t mince her words. “The Earth Kingdom summit, on our second to last night there. Or one of the days after that.”

Zuko didn’t miss a beat before he brushed it off with a chuckle, stepping away from her to start unpacking his things ready for the morning. “I think your calculations are a little off.” he laughed as he knelt to unfasten his travel chest where he’d set it down at the end of the bed. “Time has flown by pretty fast. We went to Ba Sing Se for the summit quite a while back now. It was right at the beginning of the year. It must have been some other time.”

“It was at the Earth Kingdom summit.” she insisted, folding her arms across her torso.

“Katara, that can’t be right because... well, if you _were_ right, then that would make you about-” His brow crinkled as he did the maths in his head. Even though his face was still predominantly disbelieving, she could see that her adamance was causing him to doubt. “Four and a half months pregnant.”

“Surprise?” she offered weakly. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I’m eighteen weeks along.”

Dubious golden eyes narrowed as he scrutinised her abdomen from a few feet away, as if he might have somehow missed an entire baby bump. “There... there’s nothing _there_.”

“There’s nothing there _yet_.” she corrected his conclusion. “I haven’t checked but the baby is probably nestled more into my back this time, and that’s why I’m not really showing right now. Once he or she gets a little bigger and is moving around more, they’ll shift outwards from my spine. I might just wake up one morning and be, uh,” She made the shape of a rounded stomach over her own presently innocuous one. “ _Blooming_ , so to speak.”

She didn’t know if it was her detailed explanation, her collected tone or a combination of both, but that time it sank in. Zuko dropped his sight away from her for a moment, opting to stare straight into the lid of his case with a focus that suggested he was looking for a meaning of life in the wood.

Then suddenly, his eyes widened into near perfect circles and the figurative ostrich horse of Zuko’s brain bolted.

“But-, but-,” he spluttered, struggling to get back up onto his feet. “ _How_?”

Katara had already spent two whole days trying to figure out the answer to that question herself. By now, she had a mental list ready to go.

“My periods hadn’t come back after Kai was born so I didn’t miss that. I didn’t get any of the three more obvious symptoms - no morning sickness, no nausea and no taste changes so far. I haven’t really gained much weight yet but the few extra pounds I have put on I thought were just leftovers from having Kai. I’m breastfeeding so my chest is already swollen. I’ve been tired but well... we’re _always_ tired. I suppose, in hindsight, I was kinda over-emotional about you leaving but it was my first time alone with Kai; it doesn’t stand out on its own.” 

Zuko was back across the room before she’d even finished speaking.

“Katara,” he said urgently, hands curled tight around her forearms. “We’re having a baby in five months.”

Five months. Twenty weeks. That was no time at all. 

“I know.”

Zuko was already floored by the first round. He was totally down for the count with the second. His head was reeling, leaping from thought to thought to try and account for everything and produce a coherent response but it was overwhelming. There was an impossible amount to consider. How were they going to get Kai ready to receive a sibling in such a restricted window of time when he was so young? How were they going to get _themselves_ ready? Sure, he had all the material means in the world to provide. He could wake up in the morning tomorrow, ask the first person he came across, and everything they’d need for a new arrival would be there by the evening, but there’d be no magical fix for their practical day-to-day lives. The jump from one child to two was notoriously difficult - Ursa and Hakoda had made a point of impressing that onto both of them - but when he saw his wife worrying at the corner of her lip, feeding off of his own reaction, suddenly the logistical concerns meant nothing whatsoever. Not now.

Katara was _pregnant_.

“Well.” he said softly as he slid his palms down her arms till they met with her own. “It just means we won’t have to wait so long to meet them.”

She released her lip from between her teeth with an exhale. “No. No, I guess we won’t.”

They lingered like that for a while, holding onto each other as they both tried to comprehend that this stage of their lives was coming to an end so abruptly, before the faint sound of Kai stirring shattered the pause. Katara squeezed his hands before she unlocked her fingers from his and rushed over to ensure the baby stayed asleep. He seized the opportunity to make a second attempt at unpacking his belongings, wandering back over to his case in a near-daze.

“Were your mystery friends up north alright?” she asked distractedly as she readjusted the blanket over Kai to account for his shifting.

Zuko jolted as he remembered the thing he’d been so desperate to share with her only ten, fifteen, minutes ago that he’d actually considered purposely rousing her. Her news had totally eclipsed any other thought he’d had in his brain beforehand. 

“I’ve got something I need to tell you, too, actually.” He reached for the haversack carefully. “It’ll probably be easier if I just show you.”

Katara shielded her eyes as he pulled something from the bag, the torchlight bouncing off of whatever the mystery object was. Zuko extinguished the offending sconce and suddenly she could see the large golden oval in his hands. They’d given him a pretty stone, she thought, that was nice of them, but before she got to verbalise as much to him, he turned it around so she could see the other side of it.

A crack shot through the polished surface, a single vein reaching up from the base to near the top, with spidery capillary cracks webbing out from the main fissure.

Not a stone, she realised as he held it closer to his body in a way far too tender for it to be just a rock.

An egg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously if you've read the precursor fic to this one, act of infinite optimism, then you'll already know I'm not the greatest fan of Ursa. Or at the very least, I think her character is a lot more flawed and her continuing relationship would be a lot more complicated than canon (as far as I'm aware of) pays attention to. To me, Ursa being a young mother makes a lot of sense in explaining why she was able to move on with Ikem and Kiyi so fast. If she were nineteen or around that age when she had Zuko, she'd have been barely thirty when she left after killing Azulon. Young enough that she's got a lot of life left to live and start anew. As for Ozai being Ozai... well, I don't really feel that needs explaining any further lmao. I don't buy that Ozai was ever good. In my mind, he must have been shitty with Zuko from the start and the circumstances of Zuko's birth being what I made them seemed a good way to put it across for a third-party perspective.
> 
> I am absolutely projecting with this turn - the idea of not finding out something as huge as being pregnant when the time is already half gone literally terrifies me, but it happens so often I kinda wanted to explore it and I thought it made sense in the realm of Katara's life at that point. Also, I definitely subscribe to the idea that the Sun Stone is Druk's egg, just in case the descriptions weren't similar enough!


	10. month 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you this one was going to be soon, haha, I've had this one completely written right from the very beginning. Enjoy :)

##  **month 9:**

“Come on, Kai. I know you don’t like it but it’s really important that you learn how to eat like a big boy now.”

Katara sighed as she made another doomed attempt to get her son to take a spoonful of soup into his mouth. She and Zuko had been making a concerted effort to wean their son as much as they could for almost a month, but they were having no more success with him now than they were to begin with. Just like the other thousand times she’d tried it, the young prince turned his head away from her adamantly, an ominous whine humming in the back of his throat. Kai was naturally a very placid character - they had majorly lucked out in that regard - but even he could be pushed too far and for some reason, the whole food business particularly rattled his cage. That whine was a clear warning. If she persisted with him for much longer, it would turn into a shout, then a scream, and they could kiss goodbye to the dream of getting a decent night’s sleep - or atleast, their definition of a decent night’s sleep.

Katara put her hand to her abdomen as she felt the familiar fluttering within her. She was immensely grateful she’d been told she was pregnant _before_ she’d felt her unborn stirring, though the window between the developments was barely more than three weeks. Finding out because of an unexplained pain was one thing. Finding out because there was something _moving_ inside of you quite another.

It still looked like she was distended by a heavy meal, nowhere near a suggestion that she was twenty-one weeks pregnant but appearances were irrelevant. There _was_ a baby in there and she _was_ going to be giving birth again in four months. Then they _really_ wouldn’t have the time for this.

The second she replaced the spoon into the bowl, Kai turned back to look at her and gave her his most winning smile which - disregarding the shortage of teeth and the copious amounts of drool - was eerily similar to his father’s.

It was monumentally unfair that he got to be this cute when she was trying her best to be tough on him.

“Stubborn like your father.” she muttered under her breath as she wiped away the dribble from his mouth with a spare muslin cloth, but Zuko heard her.

“Uh, stubborn like his _mother_ , more like.” he retorted, picking up his chopstick and stabbing at a stray bean-sprout with a particular vehemence.

They shouldn’t have done this tonight. They were both severely running on empty - of energy and patience.

After some consideration, Zuko had opted to account for the late pregnancy announcement by saying that they’d merely wanted to enjoy it privately for a while. He’d figured that that would be simpler and more believable than trying to explain that they hadn’t known about it. Boy, had he been wrong about that. He and Katara had spent the entire week since he’d shared the news being scolded left, right and centre. Most of it had been petty griping but even Qiaoling had admonished him on the grounds that the delay could invite doubt, and doubt could jeopardise the claim of the new baby if they turned out to be a firebender but Kai did not. The more legitimate fears had stacked atop the existing heap they’d collected over the last three weeks, worries about the remainder of Katara’s pregnancy and their life after it merging with the everyday pressures of leading a country.

Then, of course, the spirits had decided that this was the perfect time for parenting Kai to get that little bit harder. 

There was going to be some crossover between Kai and his unborn sibling in terms of Katara having to breastfeed both at once - of that, there had never been a question - but they had agreed to try and strip Kai down to the minimum for the sake of convenience. The starting goal had been to replace all but three of his breastmilk meals with solid food instead, then cut him down to none over time, but right now they were lucky to get a few mouthfuls down him, let alone enough to keep him going for the day’s intervals. He was still suckling five, sometimes even six, times a day. His abject defiance had both he and Katara in a state of flux between frustration with his seemingly baseless obstinacy and concern that there was actually something wrong with his lack of a solid appetite.

A few rough nights with Kai suffering through some sort of stomach bug had been the cherry on top of an already awful week. They were now both so stressed and over-tired that practically everything was an irritation, like sandpaper to the senses.

But Aang and Toph had travelled all the way from the Southern Air Temple to come and visit them. It had seemed incontrovertibly rude to not offer them a bed for the night that wasn’t a sky bison’s coat and food not cooked over a campfire, so here they were: 

Two parents both about ready to combust, two oblivious guests, and a nine-month old so wilful that he wouldn’t even be convinced to eat a slice of carrot.

“What’s the rush with getting him to eat the solid food again?” Toph asked as she shovelled a forkful of spicy noodles into her mouth.

“Kai won’t be ready to be completely weaned till he’s about a year-and-a-half to two years old, but it’ll be easier for us all if I can get him nursing less and eating solids more by the time the new baby comes.” Katara explained, swirling the bowl as if Kai might be tricked into changing his mind if she mixed it up. “It’s proving... _challenging_ , though. He’s been having finger foods since he turned six months old, but he’s never really been that interested.”

_Not interested_ was understating it a little, Zuko thought.

Half of the time when they presented him with something new and mostly inoffensive, like a wedge of cucumber or a cracker, he immediately threw it on the floor. Alternatively, he would prefer to play with it rather than eat it. It was as if he somehow knew that his accepting of solids was going to diminish and eventually put an end to his special one-on-one time with Katara.

“Katara, please just leave him be.” Zuko begged when Kai actually tried to bat her hand away with an irritated grizzle. “He’s not going to eat it and I really need to get some sleep tonight. I’m exhausted.”

She turned to him with a fire in her eyes. “Did you not hear a _word_ I just said?”

In his right mind, he’d probably have had the good sense to shrivel back into his chair and promptly shut his mouth under that look, but Zuko was functioning on about three hours of sleep at best - there was no such thing as fear anymore. He could feel a similar fire to hers bubbling up within him to meet her, setting his veins alight and crawling up his throat. Zuko gripped the edge of the table until he felt his knuckles pop and the grooves of the wood bit into his palms. Katara had one more pressing reason to be tetchy than he did, he reminded himself sternly, and growing a human being inside of her when she hadn’t been expecting to vastly outweighed his own struggles. De-escalation had to be his responsibility right now, especially since they had an audience.

“I did and I would like him to wean, too, so I can help you out more,” he said steadily. “-but you can’t force him to eat if he doesn’t want to. He’ll just have to stay on breastmilk until he shows an interest, or atleast until he’s a little more amenable.”

Katara was unmoved by his attempt at moral grandstanding. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your useless nipples that do the feeding!” she snapped.

“Alright then, fine!” Zuko snarled right back at her. So much for taking the high road. “Be like that!”

“Fine!”

“ _Fine_!”

Aang desperately wanted to laugh at the aforementioned comment - especially when Zuko was clearly outraged at the slight to his form - but Toph dug her elbow into his side as Zuko and Katara glared at each other on the other side of the table.

The Fire Lord conceded first, pushing up from his dining chair and holding out his hand. “Let me try.”

“He’s not going to like it anymore if you do it rather than me.” Katara seethed.

Zuko bit his tongue as he took the spoon from her anyway and pulled his seat up to Kai’s. A teeny bit of optimism returned that maybe - just _maybe_ \- he could make this work when Kai let out a squeak of delight as his dad set down next to him, hands grabbing toward him eagerly.

“Hey, squirt.” he cooed. “Mommy and Daddy would really, _really_ like it if you ate just a little bit of your soup for us. I promise it’s good.”

While their son could usually be wooed this way, the soft pleasantries had failed to make any traction when it came to solid food before - he wasn’t _that_ good of a politician - so he deployed his real plan of action. He opened his right palm and sparked up the special dragon fire that Kai liked so much. Sure enough, Kai shrieked with excitement, practically folding himself in half as he reached across the tray of his highchair for the pretty rainbow flames. Zuko drifted his alight hand further and further to the side, taking Kai’s stare with it, as he subtly reached backwards for the spoon with the other. At the exact second Kai was properly distracted, jaw hanging open in awe as he watched the flames flicker and dance, Zuko darted forward, plunged the spoon into his mouth and offloaded a dose of the soup.

He had just turned to Katara to give her as much of a self-satisfied grin as he would get away with without earning himself a sharp water whip around the ear, when Kai forcefully choked up the liquid and spat the mouthful onto the tray with a betrayed screech.

Now Katara was the one with the smug smile. “Nice going, Zuko.”

He slammed the spoon down on the table so hard it made the cups shake.

De-escalation was well and truly out of the window. Audience or not, Zuko was more than ready for one of their new passive aggressive whisper-shout arguments that Kai’s presence had necessitated the invention of, when Aang - ever the peacemaker - piped up.

“Why don’t I give it a try?”

Zuko was itching to snap that Aang had no experience with babies whatsoever - what the hell was _he_ going to do that they hadn’t thought of and attempted themselves a hundred times already - but at this point, he would try anything.

“Feel free,” he shrugged in an attempt to disguise his gritted teeth. “-but I hope you know that if you _do_ get him to do it, you’ll have to stay here with us forever.”

Aang didn’t look too put off by the prospect that Zuko was only half-joking about, so he sent the bowl over to the Avatar as he approached Kai. Aang levitated the spoon in the air with his bending and began an intricate aerobatics routine, twirling and swooping and playing tricks with it in front of Kai with such a precision that he didn’t spill a single drop onto the table. When he knew he had won the princeling’s attention, Aang dove the spoon down into the range of the baby’s mouth with one last ostentatious twist and a very hopeful look on his face.

Kai didn’t even bother to crack a smile. He sat motionless with an expression so utterly unimpressed, his golden eyes almost _bored_ , that Zuko might have laughed - perhaps even as much as Toph was - if he’d had the energy.

“Step aside, Twinkletoes. Let Auntie Toph show Junior how it’s done.” Toph cackled as she barged Aang out of the way and snatched the spoon from him.

Zuko and Katara shared a wary look, but didn’t do anything to stop her. They had to be desperate.

The earthbender plonked herself down into Aang’s vacated chair and dipped the spoon into the soup. Instead of trying to hand it to the baby, though, she made a big spectacle of bringing it up to her own lips and tipping it into her mouth. It was all going swimmingly and Kai _was_ watching her with some vague intrigue - Kai had always had a particular attitude towards Toph that could only really be described as respectful - until she actually tasted it and she sprayed it back out like a soup fountain.

“Toph! We’re trying to teach him _not_ to spit, if you don’t mind?” Katara said exasperatedly but she couldn’t help but smile a little as her son howled with laughter, holding his arms up to Toph as he tried to wriggle out of the highchair himself. She could see his exact thought process unfolding even if he couldn’t yet vocalise it - _“Auntie Toph didn’t like the rotten food either so maybe she’ll free me from this weird chair and get me out of this.”_

“Well, no wonder he doesn’t want to eat it!” she exclaimed in amongst her spluttering. “That’s just gross vegetable water!”

“What were you expecting?! He’s a _baby_.” Zuko rolled his eyes as he reached across the table and wrenched the spoon back. “His stomach is delicate. It can’t handle all the seasonings and dressings we put into food to make it taste better.”

“Okay, fine, he can’t take spice but then why don’t you give him something that’s naturally a little tastier? Like yogurt or-”

Zuko and Katara groaned in perfect unison.

Kai might be behind the curve on his weaning but he was pretty advanced for his age in everything else, to the extent that even Doctor Maho was impressed with him. Though he had yet to say anything himself, he did recognise a few choice words that mattered to him. One of which was his favourite food, the only thing that he was guaranteed to eat, specifically the cinnamon-spiced concoction that the kitchen staff prepared for him.

Kai thumped his fists on the tray and squealed, looking between his parents expectantly.

“When you wean babies, you’re supposed to start them on vegetables and savouries so they get used to the bitter flavours. If you start with fruits and yogurts, they’ll only ever want to eat that because it’s sweet and tastes better to them.” Katara explained to their friends as Zuko made a show of firmly shaking his head _‘no’_ to Kai. “He can’t have it now, anyway, it would be like rewarding him for misbehaving.”

Still, the option of throwing in the towel and giving the kid yogurt was looking appealing as a tantrum began to brew - lip quivering and eyes wide in an expression that was now so much similar to Katara that it was unnerving.

Everyone blinked in surprise when the shriek that rung out _wasn’t_ from Kai.

“Oh, fantastic.” Katara threw her hands up. “Now the damn _dragon_ wants in.”

Zuko looked down the corridor to where he’d left the hatchling earlier - snoozing on a cushion in their sitting room - then back at Kai.

“Get the kitchen to bring up two portions of steamed komodo chicken.” he said, hand brushing her shoulders, bared by the halter neck cut of her dress, in a silent apology as he turned towards the door.

“Two?” Katara frowned. “What for?”

“You’ll see.” he called back as he disappeared into the hallway.

A moment later, Zuko returned with the little red reptile clinging to his forearm.

It had only been less than a month since he’d hatched, but having a baby dragon living with them had already proved itself to be a... _novel_ experience.

Druk did have his virtues. He was objectively very cute, loyal even at his tender age, an effective rat catcher and an _excellent_ hot water bottle when Zuko smuggled him onto - or rather _into_ \- their bed (which was practically every night). Katara had to admit that she liked the poeticism of him hatching on the same night she’d told him that they were expecting again, too, but she hadn’t truly realised how much _work_ raising a dragon would be. Druk was almost as demanding as a human baby - what with his clockwork feedings and nap times, having to watch him every waking moment, his tendency to scream when he didn’t get what he wanted - and, for a creature that was really quite small, he was ten times more destructive. Their lives had devolved into a constant battle of getting Druk to chew his toys rather than their furniture and well, the _fire_... she hadn’t managed to solve that one yet. Katara had already had to douse several small blazes in his three weeks of life and there had probably been plenty more occasions that Zuko had tactfully kept to himself.

Zuko was exceptionally patient with him - not all that surprising, given that his successful rearing of this hatchling would score him a fire-breathing bodyguard, vehicle, companion and spiritual guide rolled into one for the rest of his life. Katara had a little less reason to be enthusiastic. She still didn’t quite trust the dragon, didn’t like the way she caught him staring at her sometimes. Uncle Iroh had reassured her that what was important to Zuko would soon become equally as important to Druk, but for now the hatchling seemed to perceive her and Kai as little more than obstacles in his dogged pursuit of Zuko’s affections.

Kai didn’t share her suspicions. He _loved_ the little dragon and suddenly, as a servant presented the plates of komodo chicken and Zuko coaxed the hatchling to come down onto the table next to Kai, Katara could see where he was going with this.

“He’s so _cool_.” Aang gushed as he crouched to Druk’s eye-level. The dragon cocked his head and eyed him haughtily. “I wish Appa could breathe fire.”

She thought of her burnt curtains, the acrid smell of smoke that lingered in their bedroom. “Trust me. You don’t.”

Druk squawked indignantly when everyone stood around marvelling at him a moment too long for his liking. He pushed himself up onto his hind legs and beat his wings demonstratively which - even though his body was probably only about the size of a domestic cat - were an impressive span, the down-draft powerful enough to ruffle a few strands of Katara’s hair loose from the braid crowning her forehead. Still, it was hard to imagine how the hatchling would one day be big enough that Zuko would not only be able to sit astride the top of his neck, but that he would look the small one doing it.

“Alright, buddy, it’s coming.” Zuko edged the plate towards him. After an almighty sniff and an experimental lick, Druk picked off a chunk and gulped it down.

“Look, Kai, look at Druk eating his dinner. Doesn’t that look good?”

It really didn’t - after his first taste, Druk was ripping into the meat with ferocity and Zuko found himself feeling a little sorry for the unfortunate elephant rats that had met their ends via those jaws - but Kai was mesmerised by it so Zuko decided to encourage him as planned.

“Wanna try some, too?” he asked their son hopefully as Katara played along and speared a piece onto a fork.

“If this works, I’ll literally eat my hat.” Toph muttered.

“ _Shhh!_ ” The remaining three hissed as Kai was presented with the chicken.

Kai stared over at Druk, then up at his father, before he gingerly allowed his mother to put the fork in his mouth and slide it out. Aang and Toph relaxed at the sight of the empty prongs but Zuko and Katara were wiser and still held their breath - they’d come this far with him numerous times only to have their hopes dashed when Kai hurled it back up. This time, though, he let the meat sit on his tongue for a contemplative second, then he swallowed it down firmly.

They all erupted into a cheer that startled both the baby and the hatchling.

“Looks like you’re going to have to buy a new hat, Auntie Toph.” Aang said and for the first time in a while, Toph wasn’t immediately incensed by the blatant longing in his tone. As they witnessed Kai’s confusion at the clamour melt into a beaming smile, she actually almost got it.

“Looks like _they’re_ going to have to buy him some weights. Kid’s going to be jacked if he only eats meat for the rest of his life.”

In spite of her dispassionate answer, Toph couldn’t fully suppress the fond smile that tugged at her lips and when Aang put his arm around her shoulders, she let him leave it there. She still wasn’t sure what she thought of this whole parenting business herself - Aang’s eagerness and the daunting responsibility of the future of his people resting on her womb had made her even less certain - but as she listened to their closest friends lavishing praise on their son so devotedly, there was no denying that it had brought something magical into Zuko and Katara’s lives.

And what the hell, she could admit that she did love being an Auntie.

With some more cajoling between them, they managed to get the majority of the chicken breast into Kai - and even a grudging trickle of the reheated soup - before he was vindicated with a bowl of the cinnamon yogurt.

Relief made the evening pass easier; catching up and swapping stories, reminiscing on the old memories, making a few more as Kai spent the remainder of his waking hours being passed between Uncle Aang and Auntie Toph’s laps. Before they knew it, the sky outside the windows was black and the fact that it was way, way past Kai’s bedtime forced them into saying their goodnights a little sooner than they’d have liked.

“Maybe I’ll let you keep that stupid dragon after all.” Katara said wryly as they navigated back to their chambers.

Kai had fallen asleep of his own accord during the journey from the dining room to Aang and Toph’s guest suite and was now slung over his father’s shoulder, snoring lightly. For the first time, Katara was actually feeling a little pregnant as she reached behind her back to loosen the ties of her robes and slacken the fabric around her middle. It wouldn’t be too long before her unborn baby would switch positions and she’d properly ‘pop’, then she could finally stop explaining herself to everyone - yes, she was pregnant and yes, she was really was that far along and yes, the baby _was_ healthy; he or she was just lying closer to her back than her front.

“You hear that, Druk?” He grinned as he called up to the hatchling clinging to his other shoulder, though he was probably a bit too big for that particular perch now. “Mommy says you can stay.”

“Oh, no. That is a step too far. You are _not_ calling me his mommy.”

“Why not? Druk needs a strong feminine influence in his life and we don’t want him getting _too_ jealous of Kai. Or Izumi, when she joins us.” he reasoned, sneaking in a pat of her abdomen as they came to a stop outside the door to their chambers.

“You really should stop, Zuko. We don’t _know_ that we’re having a girl. What if it’s another boy? We’d pick something else and force of habit would still have you calling him Izumi.” she warned with a chuckle. “Besides, even if it is a girl, you might not want to name her Izumi once you get a look at her. She might be somebody else altogether.”

“I _know_ it’s a girl and I _know_ that she’s Izumi but even if it weren't a girl, it's a unisex name.” Zuko said insistently. “It’s Fire Nation in origins but it means fountain, so there’s a water connection for you. It keeps up the K or Z theme _and_ it’s really nickname-able if we or she decides to - Iz, Izzi, Zum, Zumi. It’s perfect. If you like it, too, that is.” he added hurriedly.

_Izumi. Princess Izumi. Kaito and Izumi,_ she rehearsed it in her head.

“I _do_ like it.” she admitted with a nod. “It’s pretty.”

She stepped in front of Zuko before he could reach the handle and pointed her index finger in Druk’s face. “No more setting fire to my stuff, got it, lizard? Then we’ll talk about me co-parenting you.”

Katara couldn’t quite contain her laugh when the dragon unexpectedly answered her with his happy little chirp - the one that sounded hilariously like a creaky door and was usually reserved exclusively for Zuko. He uncoiled his neck and nudged her finger with his snout contritely, ruby red eyes glittering in the torchlight.

“I knew you two could work something out.”

Katara stood and watched as he carried the baby and the dragon away to their respective beds, though one or both would probably end up in her and Zuko’s bed by the morning anyway. She fondly admired the way Kai’s cheeks squished against his dad’s shoulder and followed the plume of Druk’s tail as it brushed up and down his master’s back in an almost protective mannerism.

“Zuko?”

Zuko stopped in his tracks. The dragon grumbled, wings semi-extended for stability as he was forced to shift along to make room for Zuko to turn his head back.

“Yeah?”

Her husband, a baby dribbling on him on one side and a dragon teetering on the other like it was nothing at all - like it was the most normal thing in the world. And it was. This was really their life.

“I love you.”

She got to receive half of his smile. “I love you, too.”

It was crazy, it was hectic, and it was only going to get worse when this new baby - _Izumi_ (hell, maybe she thought it was a girl, too, even if she wasn't quite ready to fess up) - came into the fray, but Katara loved her life just the way it was.

Dragon hatchlings and all.


End file.
